


The Bering Strait

by ArtemisArcher83



Series: B Series [5]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:39:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5558240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisArcher83/pseuds/ArtemisArcher83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short addition to my 'B Series', spanning the month after Myka and Christina return from London, 1890.<br/>As Christina copes with her experiences in the past, Helena struggles with some revelations from her recovered memories and Myka is slowly forced apart from her fiancée. The family trudges through the murky waters of loss and acceptance with the help of the Warehouse's newest member, Abigail Cho.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While trying to write the next part of this series 'The Birth', and getting very frustrated with how it was progressing, I decided something shorter was needed to 'fill the gap', as it were. I felt that the issues in these few chapters were necessary for the story but just didn't like them in 'The Birth'. I hope you'll let me know if 'The Bering Strait' adds to the series or falls short. Either way, I had to get it out in order to move onto all the ups and downs waiting to come, so if you've enjoyed this story so far, I hope you'll forgive me when I finally find my motivation again.
> 
> This story kicks off two days after Christina and Myka return to the twentieth century.
> 
> Warning for ongoing angst with brief moments of hope scattered throughout. Ultimately a happy 'ending' though.

Faint strands of manic chatter and sporadic bursts of music drifted into the kitchen from the TV in the living room. Neither occupant paid any attention to the discordant sounds, both being far too busy with each other to concern themselves with the quality of modern children’s entertainment. Moans and gasps absorbed every ounce of interest from the couple, rendering them almost oblivious to their surroundings.

Helena’s hands found the hem of Myka’s t-shirt and drifted beneath the soft fabric. Myka whimpered into her fiancée’s mouth, feeling her nerve endings shiver where the pads of Helena’s fingers burned a path along her skin.

They had entered the kitchen with the pretext of making up some lunch before Myka left for the Warehouse, but had fallen into a heated make-out session against the island countertop instead. That had been twenty minutes ago. Now, the one thing they were still very much aware of; the one thing stopping them from tearing off each other’s clothes, was being out in the open with their daughter just two rooms away.

Reaching behind her to catch wandering hands, Myka released her lover’s lips and placed a series of kisses against her cheek and jaw. After a few calming breaths, she pulled away to find herself gazing into eyes of molten chocolate that stared back at her with abject want.

“Helena,” the American sighed, both annoyed and intensely aroused by the look. “Stop it. You know we can’t. I’m going to die of frustration if you keep working me up like this.” Her voice came out breathy and wanton, contradicting her every word.

Entirely unrepentant, HG took advantage of Myka’s hold on her hands to bring the brunette’s left one up to her mouth. Eyes fixed on Myka’s, she kissed the inside of its wrist, working her way slowly around the pad of a thumb, teeth scraping the sensitive tip before she moved on to engulf two thirds of an index finger with her lips. At her lover’s audible groan, her eyelids fluttered closed and she sucked the length of the digit. Feeling her fiancée sag against her, HG grinned triumphantly and looked up to find sparkling green eyeing her dangerously.

“You were saying, love?” Helena’s grin faltered as Myka gripped her forearms and pushed her back into the fridge.

* * * * *

Hours later, pulling into the drive with a thoughtful smile painting her lips, Myka killed the engine and pushed open the car door. Her teenaged daughter had been polite but cheeky, relaxed but full of energy and quiet but witty. Pride filled her every pore as she thought about how vibrant her little girl was as a young adult.

Sounds of anger pulled her out of her thoughts. Mind still engaged with her afternoon spent in pleasant conversation, she didn’t immediately connect the raised voices she could hear with her own family.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Mrs. Masterson next door shaking her head disapprovingly and turned to throw a worried glance at her home. Suppressing the urge to glare at the nosy neighbour, Myka grabbed her bag, locked her car, turned her attention back to the house and hurried to the door.

Inside the house, there was chaos. Christina was screaming at Helena and, contrary to her usual calm demeanour, HG was screaming right back. Claudia, who passed Myka with an expression of intense relief, was holding a fire extinguisher in one hand and a charred lump of something that might once have been wires and plastic in the other. An acrid smell permeated the air. Recognising its ilk, she quickly began to put the pieces together.

“What on Earth possessed you to go down into the basement alone!? You know the rules in this house, yet you deliberately flouted them!” HG paced short widths across the open doorway to the entrance hall, her fists clenched tight and her voice tighter still, pregnant with the threat of tears.

Christina’s expression was a mixture of distressed and defiant, her eyes glaring at her mother in accusation. “You were too busy to come with me!”

“That does not excuse your actions, young lady,” Helena insisted. “You understand the dangers.” She ran a shaking hand through her hair, taking deep breaths through her nose to try and calm her racing thoughts. Stopping abruptly, she crouched before her daughter and held both of her arms as she looked up into angry eyes. “Damn it, Christina. Do you not realise that you could have put your life in danger had that fire grown out of control?”

Shrugging her mother’s arms off her, the eight-year-old retreated. “I don’t care!” she yelled, her words crossing the short distance, their invisible barbs connecting directly with the inventor’s heart.

Like a startled deer, Helena froze. Who was this unfeeling creature? What had happened to her little girl? She felt a firm hand under her elbow and looked up through her watery vision to find reassuring green gazing back at her. At Myka’s edict, she rose but faltered as she hovered between action and inaction.

“It’s ok, honey,” the American reassured gently, pulling her fiancée into a brief hug so she could whisper in her ear. “You know she doesn’t mean it. Just take a few minutes while we all try to calm down.”

Though she hesitated several seconds, HG nodded and turned to the door, heading for the kitchen where the morning had held such promise for the day. She felt Claudia fall into step but didn’t look back, even as more spiteful words followed her.

Christina choked, beginning to sob as she watched the Brit leave. “I don’t want you anyway!” she cried through her tears.

“Enough!” Myka ordered firmly as she placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder and led her defeated form to the couch. The agent sat, perched on the edge as she began to inspect the girl for damage. “Are you injured?” she asked, her voice neither friendly nor angry.

In truth, Myka was far too shocked by this turn of events to summon the necessary energy to feel much of anything. She understood Helena’s reaction; any reminder of her limited control over their daughter’s safety was bound to incite a relapse to a time when anger had been her only weapon against the pain. However, it had been apparent from the moment she arrived home that both Wells woman were attempting to fight fire with fire. There would be no chance for a rational conversation while emotions were so fraught, and Myka wanted answers as much as her partner did.

Christina stood with her gaze fixed firmly on the cream carpet. She hesitated a moment then shook her head. Tears continued to flow, now racing to meet in the middle, dripping from her nose.

She hadn’t wanted to create all of this tension. She had only wanted to explore a little while her Mummy was busy in the study and Mama was out at the Warehouse. Sitting in her room, playing a game with her stuffed toys, she had suddenly become aware of the lack of movement around her. There were many little noises; the ticking clock, birds, the occasional passing car, but no footsteps on the stairs and no voices drifting from below, giving orders.

A brief sound of voices cut through the terrifying calm from outside but it wasn’t at all like the comforting cacophony of sounds heard from a noisy London street. Making herself busy had seemed like a logical way to shut out the deafening silence.

Myka leant towards the coffee table and retrieved a tissue so she could wipe away some of the wetness from the girl’s face. “Why are you hiding your hand then?” she asked softly as she reached for the girl’s right hand. Gently, she pulled fingers back to reveal several scratches and a rather large gash bisecting the eight-year-old’s palm. She gasped and reached for the box of tissues as blood immediately began to seep through the wound. “Jesus!” she hissed in surprise while wrapping the girl’s fingers around a wad of tissue. She looked up to see worried features and a wobbling lip. Knowing that the pressure would give them a minute’s grace, Myka placed a hand against her daughter’s cheek. “Sweetheart, why didn’t you say anything? Mummy could have taken care of this.”

The lip wobbled more. An uninjured hand wiped ineffectually at falling tears. “Mummy was shouting,” she sniffed.

The agent’s eyes closed as she took a breath and began to prioritise. “Ok. First thing’s first; let’s get this cut cleaned up and then we’ll discuss what happened this afternoon.” Her tone brooked no argument and she instructed the injured party to follow her to the bathroom upstairs where the first-aid kit lived. Helena had an emergency kit in her lab but Myka didn’t think it was a good idea to return to the scene of the accident.

Neither of them spoke much as Myka pulled away the bloodied tissues and began to wipe away the blood with alcohol-free wipes. Thankfully, it wasn’t deep so the girl wouldn’t need actual stitches; the butterfly strips they had stocked courtesy of Vanessa would suffice, but it was a close thing.

Helena joined them after a few minutes, took one look at the medical paraphernalia, paled and sat on the corner of the bath in the silence. Myka reached behind her to squeeze the inventor’s knee in reassurance before starting to tape gauze in place. When she was finished, she sealed her efforts with a magic kiss and told Christina to go and wait in her room while she spoke to Helena.

Christina nodded and turned to the door, her eyes braving a sorrowful glance at her mother as she passed by. Before she could reach the threshold, strong arms flew out at her and pulled her into a warm hug. Feeling kisses in her hair, she looked up to see several emotions that she couldn’t name gazing back at her.

“I’m sorry, Mummy,” she whispered with feeling.

Helena kissed her daughter’s forehead. “I know, love. Go and wait in your room, we’ll talk about it in a few minutes.” She watched the girl drag her feet on her way out of the room and immediately felt all of her energy drain away. Her head fell into her hands and she listened for a moment as her partner tidied away the debris. Soon enough, a warm body perched next to her and began to run long fingers through her hair.

“Helena?” Myka prodded gently. “Honey, do you want to tell me what happened?”

Lifting her heavy head, HG glanced sideways at her partner and sighed. “I thought she was playing in her room. I was searching the internet for furniture materials, to begin working on the nursery. I didn’t even hear her come downstairs,” she added in a self-defeating tone. “I happened to be on my way to the kitchen to start on dinner when I heard a crash. I smelt the smoke and I thought...” Her voice caught at the mere memory of the panic she’d felt. “Myka; she deactivated the fire alarm,” Helena continued, horrified by the idea.

“What!? Why?” Myka jumped to her feet, anger and fear filling her in equal measure.

“Your guess is as good as mine, though I think we can safely assume that her actions were premeditated,” Helena rose slowly with an air of having the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Myka didn’t hesitate as she moved into her fiancée’s personal space and wrapped her arms around the inventor. “You must have been so scared,” she breathed into the nearest ear. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when it happened.”

“She could have died,” Helena confessed her worst fear. She shook for a moment, waiting for the terror to pass and for the soothing benefits of Myka’s presence to take effect.

Myka felt the statement reach to her core and pulled her lover impossibly closer. “She’s fine. I know it’s not a guarantee but at the Warehouse is a sassy young adult who is as stubborn as the two of us put together. She’s not going to leave us.”

HG could do little but nod along in agreement. She knew her lover was right, and thinking of the teen who had lived with her for the past week did help somewhat to allay her fears.

They presented a united front as they joined their daughter in her bedroom and took it in turns to question her patiently. They listened as Christina tried to explain away her disregard of the rules because the house was too quiet. Covert expressions of concern passed quickly between the adults, both of them knowing that they would discuss that issue in private.

Through the entire interrogation, the eight-year-old divided her attention between the bedspread and the tree outside her window. She couldn’t look either of her parents in the eye for long. The awful churning in her stomach forbade her. What had seemed like reasonable risks at the time became horribly reckless in hindsight.

Her room had been too quiet. Mummy looked too busy to play and she hadn’t wanted to risk rejection by asking. Having a sudden urge to re-enact some of the experiments she’d watched her mother perform, she’d made her way to the basement door without thought for any restrictions.

At first, she had descended the stairs with the idea that she would just look; there were lots of interesting things on display; in jars, Petri dishes and cabinets. The lab had an old-world feel to it with all of the most modern equipment modified by her aunt Claudia to fit into the decor. She could almost imagine that she was back in her uncle’s house in London if she concentrated hard enough.

Thoughts of Uncle Charles had sent a flood of something foreign and uncomfortable through her body. She’d tried to shake it off but it persisted and threatened a flood of tears behind suddenly pricking eyes. An unexpected anger crept up behind the melancholy thoughts of her uncle. Her mother wouldn’t try to rescue him and though she knew the reasons, she found herself not caring. It was Mummy’s fault that Uncle Charlie couldn’t be there to play with her now.

Shiny beakers beckoned her closer and before any thought of caution could enter her mind, she had an array of bottled chemicals sitting on a workbench and a pair of goggles perched on her nose. Twenty minutes later, there was smoke rising from the beaker and she was running in a panic to pull the batteries from the fire alarm before it could warn her mother of her transgression.

In an effort to cover up the mess, she had rushed back to the bench, fumbled with the glass, knocked it against the wooden surface and ended up with a mixture of glass and combusting chemicals running along the worktop. Several tiny fragments had nicked her palm and she ignored them. Even the feel of sharp, hot pain lancing deeper barely took her notice.

Mostly, it was the sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs that had worried her. When her mother’s astonished and then livid face met hers, she knew she was in big trouble. Ordered up to the living room, she was left to stew in her own thoughts for several minutes while her Mummy called for backup and tried to avoid a house-wide disaster. Instead of giving her time to think about what she’d done wrong, those indefinable feelings from earlier resurfaced, bringing that demon of anger with them again. By the time her mother rejoined her, she had developed a temper to match.

Seeing her sleek-haired mother’s face now though, she lost the words to explain the compulsion she had felt at the time. Mummy was already upset and she didn’t want to make that worse by discussing the people they both missed.

“Sweetheart, all we’re hearing you say is that you didn’t like being in your bedroom so you decided to play in the basement,” Myka summarised patiently. “That doesn’t make much sense. Are you sure you can’t remember what you were thinking or feeling?”

Christina continued to stare at the pattern on her duvet cover. “I don’t remember,” she muttered and then, “My stomach feels queer.”

Helena sighed, shook her head as if to say ‘we’re not going to get anything else out of her’ and sat down to pull her daughter into her lap. “I imagine what you’re feeling right at this moment, my lamb is guilt. Perhaps also anxiety for your impending punishment?” She watched her lover’s efforts to join them on the bed and then looked down into contrite eyes. “The basement door will be locked from now on and practical science is suspended until further notice. We don’t care how much trouble you think you are in, you must _never_ disable the fire alarm. Is that clear?”

The eight-year-old nodded. “Yes, Mummy.”

“In addition,” Myka continued. “There will be no access to electronic entertainment this week, which means that movie night is cancelled.”

_This_ drew Christina’s attention, her mouth opening in genuine shock. “But what about Aunt Claudia and Uncle Pete and everybody?”

“We will take you over to the B and B so you can explain to everyone why you’re not allowed guests over this week.” Myka knew they were being very harsh for a first offence but the expression she’d seen on Helena’s face as she walked in on their screaming match still stuck in her mind. “You have to realise how serious your actions were. You showed complete disregard for your own safety. You put your life in danger and Mummy’s too. The punishment should fit the crime, don’t you agree?”

She wanted one of them to shout. She wanted a good reason to shout back and vent some of this horrible guilt, regret and now anger again. “Mummy wasn’t in danger,” she argued sulkily.

Helena’s arms snaked further around the solid, very much alive figure of her baby. “Do you suppose I would have run to safety and left you to your own devices? I would have scoured the entire house until I found you.” She watched understanding dawn in dark eyes. “You, my darling, are precious to us. Never forget that.”

After more apologies and promises not to do anything else so dangerous, the three of them settled in to the kitchen where Myka and Christina sat at the island, colouring and watching Helena as she cooked. Though they chatted lightly, it was subdued, each of them engaged in their own thoughts, the quiet atmosphere continuing through the evening until Christina, without much fuss, was tucked up in bed, listening to the words of Jack London while she held onto her mother’s arm and stroked the silky fabric of her shirt.

Helena waited until the eight-year-old was well and truly asleep before extracting herself from her daughter’s slackened grip and standing. She popped the book on the bedside table and offered Myka a hand to pull her out of her chair. Together, they crept out of the room and tiptoed downstairs. HG made tea and they settled, curled up together on the living room couch, Myka’s head on her lover’s shoulder and Helena’s arm wrapped around her waist.

“I should have been watching her more closely,” Helena whispered into the quiet room after a long silence. “Bloody hell, Myka; she could have died while we were under the same roof. How can you trust me after this?”

Myka didn’t even hesitate as she tucked her fingers between those of the hand on her belly and looked up at the tortured face of her fiancée. “I trust you implicitly. One narrowly averted disaster doesn’t change that.”

She heard her lover’s words but they swept over her like water off a duck’s back. “How can you? I have you both back for one day and already I become complacent.”

“It’s not complacency to expect an almost nine year old to entertain herself for an hour while you see to other household jobs. I would say it’s remarkable, considering your history, that you were able to set aside your worry for that time. You have an amazingly strong will.” The American repositioned herself so that she could see her partner more clearly. “If anyone has damaged my trust in them today, it’s Christina, not you.”

“Myka, don’t say that,” Helena pleaded, tears brimming.

The brunette shifted again in her never ending quest to find a comfortable position. She held her lover’s hand between her two and stroked her thumb over its wrist. “I didn’t mean for that to sound so harsh. I trust that she loves us; that she isn’t intentionally trying to hurt us. If it came to a situation where either one of us was in trouble, I trust that she would do everything she could think of to try to help. Please don’t think that my estimation of our daughter has been damaged in any way, Helena.” She tried to keep her voice even but couldn’t prevent the tiny catch at the end. “I’m not blaming her. I just don’t trust that she is capable at the moment of making the best decisions. After today’s incident and the way she completely disregarded my instructions yesterday, I don’t trust that she’s in complete control of her actions.”

“You think something is controlling her?” the Brit asked, her expression horrified.

Myka shook her head quickly. “No, I’m not saying that she’s under the influence of an artefact, though I suppose we really shouldn’t ignore the possibility. I think, like you, like me, she’s overwhelmed by her feelings. Rather than talking about it, she’s acting out.” A small shrug lifted her shoulders as she continued to think it over. “If she’s never had reason to feel this way before, she might not know what it is or how to control it. I know all children have temper tantrums on occasion but I’ve never seen that mixture of rage and fear in her eyes before.” She hesitated, keeping her voice soft and non-accusing before adding, “It’s a look I’ve seen on you though. She needs to talk to someone.”

HG nodded slowly. “The way I should have talked to someone,” she responded, recalling how much she had wanted to open up to Myka but had been afraid to admit just how much pain she was feeling. She had wanted to be strong. “Let’s hope that she doesn’t plan to start the next ice-age,” she added with a rueful half-smile.

Myka huffed out a sound of pained amusement and squeezed Helena’s hand in an attempt to show her support. “I hear we have a new addition to the team. Do you think she might be able to help?”

“Abigail?” HG frowned thoughtfully. “I believe she was recruited for that purpose, though I can’t say that I’m enamoured by the idea of visiting a psychiatrist again. She does appear a good deal friendlier than the ones I was required to talk to during my time as a hologram however.”

Myka’s fingers sank into silky hair, playing with the softest threads at the nape of HG’s neck. “Helena, a lot has happened in a very small space of time. None of us find it easy to discuss the things we need to; we’re all too emotionally invested in one another. Some things are easier to verbalise with a stranger or at least, someone who’s impartial.” She placed a lingering kiss over soft lips. “I think we all need to spend some time processing recent events and I’m sure Christina will feel better about seeing Abigail if we’re going too.”

An expression of distaste crossed the Victorian’s face. “The family that belonged in Bedlam.”

Tutting and poking her partner’s side, the American levelled a firm gaze at dark eyes. “The field of mental health has taken great steps forward, Helena. She’s holding a lot in and for whatever reason, she’s not opening up to us about it. If she’s more comfortable talking to Abigail, what does it matter so long as it helps her?”

HG let out a long breath. “She knows she can tell us anything. Why will she not?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say she’s worried about upsetting or disappointing us. Today has to be a result of being overwhelmed by all that’s going on. I don’t believe she _wants_ to cause so much trouble.” She stroked the side of Helena’s face. “She tries to be so like you,” she whispered cautiously. “Give her time; she’ll find a way to talk to us.”

“I will defer to your judgement on the matter.” A small, reverent smile crept across her features, mirrored by a knowing grin ghosting across her lover’s lips.

She considered where she’d been a year ago; living in her modest house in Rapid City, trying to find redemption and convince herself that contacting Myka in an attempt to rekindle a friendship with her was a good idea. That she could handle that. Would she have found the strength to return under her own steam? Many times in her life, she’d tried to struggle through on her own. Perhaps it was time she swallowed her pride and accepted help.

* * * * *

The following day saw the three of them falling out of the same bed again, Christina having slept for a total of two hours before complaining of bad dreams and refusing to sleep alone.

After breakfast, Helena joined Myka in their bathroom while Christina was happily getting herself dressed, picking out coordinating skirts, tights and tops for the walk they had decided to take through the park. Waking up to find both of her parents smiling seemed to have taken the weight of the previous day’s guilt off her shoulders. For however long it lasted, she appeared to be back to her happy self.

The inventor sighed and hid her face against a long neck as she wrapped her arms around her fiancée’s middle and splayed both hands out over their growing baby.

Myka paused in the process of reaching for her toothbrush and turned her head slightly to rest her cheek against the inventor’s forehead. “You’re still going to talk to Abigail this afternoon?” she asked hopefully.

“I am willing to give it a try if you think I should.” HG’s muffled voice vibrated pleasantly against the brunette’s collar. She loosened her hold slightly, allowing her partner to turn around.

Running her hands along the curves of her fiancée’s figure, she leant in for a quick kiss, which turned into several and ended when the sound of impatient knocking broke them from their heated haze.

“Mummy, Mama needs to finish getting ready. You’re distracting her,” Christina complained from the doorway.

Helena felt Myka smile and giggle against her mouth as the Brit groaned dramatically. As subtle as a sledgehammer, she reached behind the brunette and grabbed a globe of flesh in each hand, eliciting a sound halfway between delight and indignation.

“Coming, darling!” she called as she released her scowling partner and ducked out of reach of the swing that came her way. Chuckling to herself, she met her daughter in the bedroom and ducked down to land a raspberry on her cheek.

“Urgh!” the eight-year-old protested loudly even as answering giggles erupted from her throat. She wiped at her cheek and then found herself chasing her mother around the room in an effort to return her ‘gross germs’.

Eventually, they lay collapsed on the bed, both gasping for breath and red faced with exertion.

Helena was determined not to let the events of the previous day impact on the way she interacted with her daughter. The weight of sadness that sat on her conscience threatened to drown out all hope and she knew she couldn’t let that happen. She and Myka had agreed to be firm when handling any challenging behaviour but to try to combat Christina’s anger by filling their day with as much love and support as they could. Until they knew why Christina was so out of character, all they could do was trust their instincts.


	2. Chapter 2

Myka unconsciously held her breath as she watched the woman she loved stare into the stone bowl filled with extracted memories. She hadn’t wanted to admit it but she was nervous. Despite the emotional upheaval of the last few days, her relationship with her fiancée had never felt stronger. She thought of the stolen moments they’d spent entwined in each other’s arms and blushed automatically. With Christina insisting on crawling into bed with them, they had not had an opportunity to make good on the promises in their brief touches and the anticipation was beginning to drive her mad.

Would things change when Helena remembered all?  Would it make a difference once she had the memories of her experiences first hand?

Helena brought the bowl to her mouth, tipped it up and proceeded to drink the contents in a continuous series of gulps, until nothing remained and she set it back down with a pained gasp. Knuckles whitened as she gripped the edge of the pedestal.

“Helena?” Myka’s hand hovered over her partner’s back, hesitating as she watched the way the muscles in the inventor’s back tensed. “Hun?”

HG shook, her eyes closed as images and emotions assaulted her, pushing aside false memories and leaving her reeling...

_Whispers of a mysterious stranger and her daughter appearing in the night._

_A figure grappling with her in the dark._

_Candlelight revealing a handsome woman in her nightclothes._

_Emotions stirred by bright eyes. Fear and excitement filling her in equal measure as she attempted to deny that gut feeling of love at first sight. Jealousy toward an unknown rival settling around the odd realisation that she was her own rival._

_Dark, innocent eyes meeting her own, taming the fire left by vibrant green._

_Confusion, desire, love, concern, wavering control and so much more; all of these things shone from her soul mate’s penetrating gaze._

_Bright laughter tugging at her insides, tripping her up and making her fall all over again._

_Blue eyes and soft lips coming closer. Guilt flashing through her mind at the expression of betrayal on her daughter’s face. Green warring against sadness in the aftermath of a shopping trip._

_Fear scaring her off for several days into the field. Love and desperation dragging her back and into supplicating arms._

_And then... then feeling as if the world was crashing down around her. Her love on death’s door. A child... **Her** child clinging tight with fear. Revelations of her grandparents’ connections to the Warehouse._

_Holding fast. Finding courage to put aside her doubts. Making this unexpected family her priority. Seeing adoring eyes bright with life again and knowing that they were forever._

_Finally, exploding beneath knowing hands. Being raised to unimagined heights over and over again, each time lovingly guided back into the safety of her mate’s arms._

Helena felt the hard ground under her knees and opened her eyes finally to find herself nose to crevice with the dusty Warehouse floor. Wobbling slightly, she tried to stand and immediately felt her lover’s hands steadying her, guiding her out of her past and back to the present. The moment she was standing, she fell into Myka’s arms.

Nose buried now in her fiancée’s neck, she took several deep breaths. “Good Lord,” she whispered hoarsely. She grasped the back of Myka’s shirt and held her close for several minutes.

Myka bit back her desire to ask a barrage of questions. How much did her partner remember? How did she feel about the events of the past? What did she think to how they had handled the situation? What did she recall of her grandparents’ involvement? Did she have any insight into this mysterious future threat? So many things she wanted to know but most of all was a simple, ‘will you be ok?’

Instead, she held her lover tight and whispered words of comfort and patience. It would be easy to try to rush through everything but ultimately it would do them no good. Feelings took time to work through, as they were learning with their daughter.

Helena remained in a state of quiet contemplation for the rest of the day. Myka respected her need for space as much as she possibly could but by the time they were tucked up in bed, alone for the present, she rolled over into a semi-comfortable position and leant on her elbow, waiting patiently for her fiancée to look at her.

HG lay, gazing with far away vision at the ceiling. She could feel Myka’s eyes on her and clenched her teeth to hold back the outburst that had been building all day.

Knowing of no way to put her thoughts into words, HG felt a tear slip down her cheek and her sob work its way into her throat. A hand reached for her and drew her into a comforting embrace; no demands for words and explanations; just warmth and a promise never to let her go.

Listening to her lover’s breathing, she knew the moment Myka fell asleep. Though her eyes burned with the need to sleep, she struggled to keep them closed. It was just passed midnight when she heard telltale sounds of movement from across the landing and knew they were about to get a visitor. She struggled with her conscience for a moment before letting out a breath and remaining in place; one eye barely open, watching until a small figure crept stealthily across the room and rolled neatly up onto the mattress, her movements barely felt by the couple.

For the first time since arriving at the Warehouse that morning, Helena smiled to herself. If nothing else positive could enter her pessimistic thoughts at present, she would take a shot of pride. Christina would be a force to be reckoned with some day.

She waited until her daughter had wriggled under the covers before opening her eyes properly. “Bad dreams again?” she whispered. A wavy-haired head jerked, dark eyes honing in on her, looking worried. Helena opened her arms and relief immediately shone back at her. “You are fortunate that I need the company tonight.”

Myka shifted in her sleep, her breath catching in her nose so that she snorted slightly and brought more smiles from her companions.

Christina drifted off to sleep in no time, leaving her Mummy lying awake alone again. With her thoughts still jumbled, the inventor held the eight-year-old close, hoping to find another anchor. The worst part of the shock had started to wear off and though the fake memories were still there, they were more like dreams than actual events.

Returning from Filey with a dreaded certainty that she was pregnant had been replaced by the summons to speak with her mother. Taking refuge at her grandparents’ while wondering what she was going to do about the child gave way to a scuffle in the dark and the lure of a beautiful stranger.

She wasn’t sure how to feel about all of these discoveries yet. That morning, she and Myka had seen their teen frozen in time and a fearful part of her brain worried that they’d just sentenced their daughter to ten years of torture. Mixed up with that was a new residual feeling of guilt for the difficulties she had unknowingly thrust upon Christina and Myka as she ran from them, leaving them to wonder at her absence for over a week.

That had been unintentional though. Not knowing how important her presence was for the pair, she could hardly be held responsible for the severity of her mistake. Events that did begin to play on her conscience though, were her more recent choices. Those after her release from the bronze.

She recalled a winter gathering in London and the shadows behind Myka’s eyes as she approached the tearful brunette in her brother’s library. On many occasions during their time together in the nineteenth century, she noticed some hidden expression of sorrow and loss behind those eyes. The long days and nights that followed as Myka’s health had deteriorated and her strength to hide her emotions had waned. That night she had been discovered in Richard’s arms particularly stood out.

Yes, in recent years, she had spent a lot of time regretting the way she had treated Myka but somehow, seeing the raw, uninhibited pain through fresh eyes had made a deeper impact.

A seed of hybridised shame and guilt took root in her heart. All of the time she put into thinking of her own desires, before and after the incident at Yellowstone; somehow she’d thought that her selfishness was best for Myka too; a way to allow the American to move on from their brief but explosive love affair.

Inconsiderate, or perhaps  just wilfully ignorant of her ex’s feelings, she had chosen to live a fiction. While she hadn’t deliberately sought companionship, she had only given Myka a passing thought after meeting Nate and Adelaide. Even, she reluctantly admitted to herself, going so far as to push any thought of her time with Myka to the back of her mind.

All the while, she had been hurting the woman she loved. Her soul mate. The other mother of her children. How could she have not known? What was wrong with her that she had been unable to accept Myka’s significance when the other agent had had such an impact on her?

She felt undeserving. It was a feeling she had thought herself rid of. That particular monster, which ate away at her self-esteem, began to rear its ugly head again. It festered. It fed. It grew.

She couldn’t let these demons hurt Myka again. She had to get them under control, and soon.

Dawn came and went with Helena finally managing to fall into a restless slumber, where she remained even as her daughter and fiancée rose and left to start the new day.

On the tail of her disturbing, late night thoughts, the inventor’s subconscious continued to grapple with her aberrant memories. She woke close to midday, eyes filled with more tears on the cusp of a particularly vivid replay of her first intimate encounter with Myka after her acceptance into Warehouse 13.

_As Leena bid her farewell, leaving her to finish her cup of tea, a cunning half-smile appeared on HG’s features. Not only was this the first time anyone had left her alone outside of her designated sleeping space, this was the first time she’d had the bed and breakfast to herself, with one exception; Myka._

_Ever since their first meeting, when Agent Bering and her buffoon of a partner had tried to capture her in London, she had found herself inexplicably drawn to the other woman. Though her thoughts were often filled with nothing but the next steps in her plan, to bring peace back to the world by wiping out the majority of its human populace, she watched Myka._

_Those errant curls, that long neck, those endless legs._

_That shy smile, those blushing cheeks, the hand that grasped the other as it attempted to gain a mind of its own._

_Her laugh. Her open expression of trust and respect._

_HG saw and heard it all._

_Far from being able to admit to anything deeper, she knew she wanted this beautiful creature; wanted to touch, to taste... to watch the agent come apart beneath her._

_This was the first time, and perhaps the last for who knew how long, that she had Myka to herself. She did not intend to waste it._

_She tipped the lukewarm remains of her drink down the drain and left her cup next to the sink. Someone else could clean up after her. Knowing with little doubt where Agent Bering would be on a quiet afternoon with the place almost to herself, HG made her way to the small library. For a time, she stood in the doorway just absorbing the sight before her and savoured the anticipation. She watched a hand reach up to push back a rebellious strand of hair and swallowed the hungry sigh that rose in her throat._

_Imagining the way that Myka would arch into her as she drew her lips along that expanse of skin, she felt her legs tremble. Was it simply the length of time she’d spent without intimate companionship, or was it that Agent Bering was so unlike any woman she’d ever met? This irresistible desire to have, to take? Where did it come from?_

_Not one to question her desires too deeply, HG grew impatient with observing and stalked on soft soles across the room, being careful to make no sound nor send her shadow across Myka’s attention before time. Glancing over the American’s shoulder, the inventor scanned the words on the nearest page and grinned triumphantly._

This will be easy, _she thought._

_Leaning down to bring her lips closer to the delicate shell of an ear, her amusement transferred into her voice as she whispered, “Enjoying yourself, darling?”_

_Myka jumped, startled by the Victorian’s arrival. Cheeks flushing with embarrassment, she snapped the book shut and sat up straighter, watching as the Brit circled the couch and found a space beside her. “Helena,” she greeted. Her right hand strayed to her hair once again, her fingers trying to tame its wild tendencies. She glanced at her companion a little bit longer and felt her body shiver at the intense, predatory gleam in those dark eyes._

_“Tell me,” HG began as she slipped her shoes off and curled her legs behind her. “How many times have you read this book?” She reached for the item, which was held against a rapidly rising and falling chest, and pried it from reluctant hands. Examining it, she noted the worn but well cared for condition. “Surely you must have it memorised by now,” she teased._

_Myka’s eyes narrowed and she carefully snatched the item back. “Does it matter?” she asked defensively._

_“Not at all,” HG responded, her tone and her smile softer as she attempted to balm any offence taken. Though her habitual intention had been to keep the younger agent on a cusp between flustered and frustrated, a strategy that had worked for her many times before, a small voice in the back of her head told her to be careful with this one. While she wasn’t about to give up her goal, she decided to change her tactics slightly. “I’m flattered that you would think it worthy of repeated attention. Perhaps a part of me is even envious.”_

_Agent Bering blushed but a ghost of a smile accompanied it this time. “You don’t think you’re worthy of repeated attention?” she asked as she finally found some of her assertiveness returning._

_HG grinned at the edge of playful flirtation in Myka’s voice. She was turned to face her fellow agent, her elbow resting casually on the back of the couch. She glanced down to where Myka’s feet lay and with a spontaneous move, lifted them onto her lap. She purposefully ignored the sharp intake of breath that followed as her hands held loosely to angular ankles. “Would you do me the honour of reading to me?”_

_Myka swallowed past the heart that had jumped into her throat. Read? To HG Wells? Trying to ignore the direct link between the skin under HG’s hands and the throbbing in her mid-region, she fumbled with the book until she found the page she was on._

_Voice cracking, she began, “… ***** I think her opposition nerved me rather to proceed. I shook her off, perhaps a little roughly, and in another moment I was in the throat of the well. I saw her agonise face over the parapet, and smiled to reassure her. Then I had to look down at the unstable hooks to which I clung…” Within a few short sentences, she found her natural confidence for the written word and became absorbed in the much-loved story._

_HG felt the brunette’s voice flow through her and closed her eyes. Rather than finding the words irritating in the American accent, the soft ebb and flow of Myka’s tone brought a sense of peace that was unexpected. Several minutes passed while she lost herself to the feeling. At some point, Myka paused to cough and roused her from her dreamy state. The brunette continued her oration smoothly, none the wiser of her companion’s abrupt sense of disquiet._

_From under lowered lids, HG observed her companion. What was this strange feeling? How had something as simple as the woman’s voice entranced her so swiftly? Distant words whispered a warning from the back of her mind suggesting that this revelation didn’t bode well for the future, but she ignored it._

_Watching the movement of full lips, she felt her primal desire return and banished any thought for the mystery. Myka’s nervousness had vanished in light of her concentration on her task and HG decided that she needed to put a stop to that. A new plan formed in her mind. Distancing her thoughts from the hypnotic sound of Myka’s voice, the inventor focussed her attention on the feet in her lap._

_Moving both hands to wrap around an ankle, she circled her thumbs around the heel and smiled inwardly at the waver in Myka’s tone. Using her knowledge of pressure points and erogenous zones, she let her hands travel over the other agent’s skin, gradually moving towards the toes and back up over a calf, each time rising higher and hearing the increasing shallowness in Myka’s breathing._

_When she switched to the other foot and repeated the action, the reading stopped altogether and she glanced up to see eyes almost completely shut and lips open in a silent ‘oh’. Grinning to herself, she slowed her movements and trailed a nail along a sole, making the other woman jump. “Not dozing off on me, are you, love?”_

_Myka’s eyes shot open and she pulled her feet out of Helena’s lap. A startled, flushed expression infused her face as she stared at the amusement on the Victorian’s features. Blood pulsed deafeningly through her veins, parts of her body throbbing harder with each passing second. With effort, she summoned the will to speak._

_“Helena, do you know what you’re doing?” Her words tumbled out without censure. Of course HG knew what she was doing; it was written all across her face, but the nerdy, shy part of her struggled to believe that this beautiful woman was making advances towards her_.

 _“I am quite cognisant of my actions, dearest Myka. I think the question is; do_ you _know what I’m doing? What I’m asking?” HG trailed her fingertips over a knee and down along a muscular thigh._

_Myka sat up straighter and captured the wandering digits. Rather than putting her in a more defensible position though, she found herself inches away from that maddeningly triumphant expression and felt her breath catch. “You’re trying to seduce me,” she blurted._

_A light chuckle escaped the inventor. Using their new proximity to her advantage, she leant in closer and whispered into an ear, “Trying?” Lips brushing a blushing cheek, she kept her expression soft as she retreated to gaze into Agent Bering’s eyes and lifted a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind an ear. “We are consenting adults, are we not?”_

_“Yes,” Myka breathed, her attention divided between those eyes and the hand that settled on her waist. As a thumb began to rub circles just beneath her t-shirt, her eyes fluttered shut and she felt the delicate press of lips against her own; asking; requesting permission._

_With very little effort, HG encouraged the other agent to lean into her, to push against her and demand more. She let Myka think she was leading them, feeling the hands that bunched her shirt collar tug a little harder, lips push a little firmer, and legs close around her waist a little tighter. With each minute, she orchestrated their dance, until she had the American willingly pinned beneath her._

_Myka had no idea how long they moved together before she felt the inventor’s hands beneath her t-shirt. She only remembered how right it felt to have Helena touch her. She only remembered the sounds that escaped her mouth and the voice in the back of her head that wondered how much of her begging made it to the other woman’s ears. She only remembered feeling elation as her body responded to every caress and rode questing fingers until stars exploded behind tightly closed eyelids. She only remembered words of comfort spoken in_ that _voice as she came down from her high, and later, much later, the scent of fresh sheets mixed with the taste of_ them.

_HG slid from Myka’s bed the second she sensed the other woman fall asleep. Retrieving scattered clothes, she half dressed and made a bee-line for the door. She had intended not to look back; not to see the angel she suspected lay behind her. She failed. Myka was twice as perfect in sleep and HG felt her insides twist as she considered what they’d done. For an act that had always held little meaning for her beyond the need for release, sex with this magnetic creature had proved to be very different. She could still feel Myka inside her but much deeper than the layer of nerves that covered her skin._

_More than anything, this realisation terrified her._

_With a sneer painted deliberately across her lips, she dismissed the thought and left with renewed determination to keep her more romantic sensibilities under strict control. The last thing she needed was to fall in love._

Helena sat and listened to the distant sounds of animated chatter as she wiped at the tracks on her cheeks and tried not to hate herself. She had treated Myka so callously and yet here they were, living together, their lives inexplicably entwined and very much in love. Somehow they had survived that terrible period. Myka had forgiven her. Myka trusted her.

Did she deserve any of that?

In the shower, she tried to wash away the negative emotions that weighed her down, remembering the bliss she had felt just a day or two before as she and Myka took every opportunity to touch and connect. Despite the increasing worries about their daughter, they had made out like teenagers in every dark corner of the house. Even some places at the bed and breakfast and the Warehouse. That expression of complete and utter devotion on her lover’s features was something she cherished and very much wanted to nurture.

Perhaps _she_ didn’t deserve to be happy yet, but Myka did and she had to make sure she didn’t ruin that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * An extract from HG Wells' The Time Machine


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and any comments. I wasn't quite sure how this part of the story would go over with everyone and I really appreciate your continued support. I wish I had something longer to give you but that will have to wait until I get to grips with The Birth.
> 
> I added a reference to the last chapter for the extract Myka reads to HG but otherwise it's unchanged.
> 
> So this is the third of six chapters for The Bering Strait. (Told you it was short.) Enjoy!

The week following her solo venture into the basement, Christina fluctuated between angry, sulky, unreasonable, inconsolable, manically amused and clingy. One minute she would be like a shadow, following her parents from room to room, and then weepy or on the verge of a bellowing outburst. She wouldn’t be left alone for long, succeeding in pulling either Myka or Helena away from one important task or another to entertain her for about an hour before they insisted on returning to work.

She still had her schoolwork and her theatrical classes. She still helped with dinner and had chores to do. She still accompanied her parents to visit their friends either at the bed and breakfast or at Pete and Lila’s apartment. Her week was full of activity but the hours where she was expected to entertain herself, she began to hate.

Abigail Cho visited them daily or else had the family join her at the bed and breakfast.

Never had she counselled a family like them. They were inseparable, supportive of one another to an extreme and yet, there was such a tangled web of pain flowing beneath the surface, it was a wonder they were as well adjusted as they were. She could only theorise that it was their closeness and the bonds with most of the other Warehouse crew that kept their heads above water.

There was a permanent layer of scepticism beneath Agent Wells’ words whenever they began one of their sessions. In the beginning, the therapist preferred to see them all together so she could gage the family dynamics. She quickly sussed out the hierarchy and was unsurprised to find that there was a constant shifting of power between them, but more often than not, Myka took the majority.

While HG was quicker to make suggestions, she often deferred to her partner when decisions had to be agreed upon. Meanwhile, both adults allowed the eight-year-old more than her share of time to voice her opinions. There was a lot of love between them but Abigail quickly saw that the adults needed some guidance with how to handle their daughter’s natural struggle for authority.

At the end of the first week, Abigail saw Agents Bering and Wells without their daughter. She watched how they sat close enough to entwine their hands and took note of the way they unconsciously leant towards one another.

“Today, I want to discuss how our sessions will look for the next couple of weeks. If you all agree, I would like to start seeing Christina on her own.” She kept a very professional demeanour as she laid out the rules for them. “Understand though that, unless she tells me something that’s life threatening, Christina’s sessions will be confidential.” In her experience, this was often the hardest thing for parents to grasp.

“We have talked about that,” Myka responded with a small glance at the inventor. “Of course, we would rather she felt comfortable being more open with us, but if she trusts you and it helps her, then we’re happy for you to keep her confidence.”

“Do you think you can help her?” Helena asked bluntly. She had a little more understanding of counselling after her therapy post failed-apocalypse, but it was still a field of science that she wasn’t entirely comfortable with.

“I think, between the four of us, we can identify her triggers and work on tightening some boundaries to help her feel more secure.” Abigail explained. “While she’s testing your limits, she’s learning what’s acceptable and what isn’t. I gather that you haven’t had much cause to discipline her before and by the sound of things, you’re doing all the right things but it’s a little chaotic, so I want to work with her and the two of you to have a very clear plan of action for when her mood suddenly shifts. She should know what to expect when she’s made a wrong choice. To counterbalance that, I want to introduce a tangible reward system. In our sessions, I will work on discussing her responses and try to tackle the underlying reasons for her concerns.” She hoped, as Myka nodded along, that Agent Bering would be able to bring her fiancée into the same line of thinking. HG’s sceptic frown deepened as she continued to talk. “We’ll start with a short two week plan but I want you to be aware that I’m looking at a projected timeline of 6-12 months with optional drop-in sessions following.”

Helena, who had inched forward so that she now leant with her knees on her elbows, swivelled to share a look with her lover before sighing and nodding. “I’m not sure I agree with treating our daughter like a disobedient canine but at this point, I am willing to try anything.” Her hand reached behind her to squeeze Myka’s leg as if to say ‘I trust you if you think this will work’.

Clearing her throat, Abigail glanced down at her notes and tapped her pen lightly. “It’s not a bad comparison really,” she admitted reluctantly. “Children and dogs share some similar behavioural tendencies. I’m not suggesting that they are on a par intellectually but that they are susceptible to their instincts. They lack the tools to reason their way through emotional situations. So yes, we are trying to condition some of her responses, but at the same time, teach her to recognise how she is feeling and how better to deal with some of the stronger emotions.” She cleared her throat again, feeling her own emotions stirring at the unimpressed expression in dark, dagger-like eyes. “We’re not trying to belittle her or treat her like an animal. In the moment when she is beyond reason, we’re just trying to speak to her instincts without the shades of grey.”

“Then we put the shades of grey back in when she’s calm?” Myka continued for the therapist, feeling as if she was starting to understand Abigail’s strategy.

“Precisely,” Ms Cho answered with a gentle sigh of relief. “But only if you’re comfortable with it and you’re willing to put in the work. It will only help her if we’re all following the same plan.”

“Do you truly believe that it will take her six to twelve months to learn how to go to bed on time?” Helena asked sharply.

Abigail surprised the mothers by chuckling slightly. “God, no. A girl of Christina’s intelligence, who very much wants to succeed, I would predict six to twelve _days_. I’m sorry if I was unclear,” she continued as she sobered. “The long term therapy will be for the underlying issues. A large part of which will be bereavement counselling. My other task will be to focus on her fear of separation, particularly where the two of you are concerned.”

The expression of disbelief on the inventor’s face disappeared, replaced by a sadness that the therapist had not seen before. She could only guess that HG was thinking back to her own bereavement counselling. “Fear of separation?” Helena thought aloud. “As a result of the family we had to leave in the past?”

“That,” Abigail agreed. “Also, seeing Myka at death’s door and losing you twice, HG. Once when she was whisked off to London with Myka and again on her return to our present time. I would like to explore her feelings about those incidents. She likely isn’t aware that they have any effect on her.”

Myka shifted forward in her seat and placed a gentle hand on her fiancée’s back. “Helena? Do we give it a try?” she asked, though her expression said that she’d already made her own mind up.

“Yes, of course,” HG responded with mild surprise as she sat up. “Something must be done; we cannot continue as we are. I trust your judgement, love,” she reached back to hold Myka’s hand again.

By the time they’d finished with Abigail, Helena’s mind as bursting with thoughts. Hope for Christina’s future. Frustration over the modern ideas on child raising. Annoyance at the lingering thoughts from the recovery of her memories.

She had prided herself on her modern approach to motherhood when Christina was born. Distraction and misdirection had been essential tools in her parent kit and as her daughter’s verbal skills improved, she had talked to the girl about the needs of the individual verses the needs of society; earlier, in the simplest of terms and later with more depth, she had taught her baby about balance and generosity of spirit. To see her efforts pushed aside, to feel like _she_ was the one with all the antiquated ideas, it made her feel old. For the first time in her one and a half century life-span, she felt old.

Despite her scepticism and never-ending questions though, she wasn’t entirely ignorant of the vision in the therapist’s plan and she was willing to swallow her pride to benefit her child. Christina had taken a liking to the young woman and vice-versa.  She couldn’t deny that she was quickly finding a strong sense of respect for the new arrival, and it didn’t hurt that Abigail had commented several times on her daughter’s compassion and intelligence.

As Christina agreed to talk to Ms. Cho on her own, Myka managed to convince her fiancée to take a walk with her. Their alone time together depleted day by day as their daughter became more demanding so it was ever more important that they grasp these opportunities when they could.

Helena wrapped an arm around her love’s waist and felt the American lean into her. Their pace was slow; their close proximity impeding their steps but they stayed that way until they reached the park and Myka complained that her back was beginning to ache. HG led them over to a bench that looked out across trees trembling with anticipation for spring and encouraged her fiancée to rest her head on a waiting shoulder. For several minutes they remained like that, Helena breathing in Myka’s scent and Myka simply enjoying the peace of the moment.

“How long do you think we have?” Myka murmured into her scarf after a while.

Helena contemplated the question briefly. “You know our girl does like to talk once she gets started. They could be in there all afternoon if Abigail has her making plans for the next week or so.”

The brunette chuckled at the image, her shoulders shaking against her lover’s body, spreading her amusement to an appreciative recipient. “True. But this is their first official session so...”

“Equally, they might not wish to drag it out,” HG finished for her partner. “Another half-hour?” she suggested.

“That seems a fairly safe bet,” Myka agreed. Feeling her body protesting again at her crooked position, she sat up and wound her arm around the one that feel from her shoulder. Knowing that it might be a while before they were alone together again, she took a long breath and turned to the inventor. “Helena, you haven’t said much about her origins. About how you feel I mean, since we found out that she’s ours. That I’m not just a step-mom to Christina.” She could hear the nerves and uncertainty in her voice. This subject had been niggling away at her thoughts for days. There was just enough doubt behind her confidence to require a definitive answer from her partner.

Surprised, Helena’s head turned sharply, her eyebrows drawn together as her gaze landed on the American. “I... Love, how do you think I feel?”

Myka hesitated. She knew she was being stupidity insecure but since Helena had avoided discussing the subject of the past, she found herself lingering over the same negative thoughts. “Happy, I hope,” she finally ventured.

“Of course I’m happy. How could I not be over the moon?” She entwined the fingers of her right hand around Myka’s left. “I shall remind you of something you said not too long ago; though I know it does not change how much we love our children, there is something comforting in knowing that a part of you remained with me all that time.”

Tears surged unexpectedly around green eyes as Myka was filled with relief and love for her fiancée. A small voice in the back of her mind rejoiced with the knowledge that Helena didn’t resent her for leaving their child to face certain death. Knowing that their lives could never have existed, she had vowed not to be too hard on herself, but this confirmation from her partner allowed the last of her guilt to melt away.

Slowly, a radiant smile lit the brunette’s features and she leant in to the inventor to brush a soft kiss against welcoming lips. Helena drank in her lover’s touch, letting it warm the dark, cold places in her heart. Myka was her light, her star; the sun that shone down on her world and gave it life.

“Thank you,” Myka whispered as they parted.

They found their daughter both excited and anxious about her new behaviour plan when they returned to Leena’s. As Abigail had observed, the young girl was eager to try her best but it was apparent that the experience of several uncontrollable mood swings had knocked her confidence. Helena and Myka reviewed the contract that the therapist insisted they agree on and had them sign next to Christina’s neat and tidy signature. As well as promising to go to bed on time, the eight-year-old promised to return to bed when asked to if she woke in the night and had made plans for activities that she could occupy herself with for two half-hour sessions every day. Several requests of her own followed but as none were beyond their means to achieve, the adults readily made their acceptance known.

The week following began well, with the novelty of the pact boosting Christina’s compliance and a temporary relief falling on their household. She still woke in the night and crawled into bed with her parents. There were still tears and cuddles when she was gently guided back to her own bed. There were still tantrums and moments of stubborn refusal. But with everyone singing from the same hymn sheet, the fallout became easier to handle and the stress of those moments lightened.

Until day four...

Mama was ill again. She might die, and if she did, Freddy would die and Mummy would be devastated.

At least, that was how Christina saw their current situation and she was making her feelings known. Since waking up to the sound of someone throwing up and jumping out of bed in a panic to find her Mama crouched over the toilet and concern painting her Mummy’s features, the young girl had been unable to settle to anything.

Tuesday, they had decided to visit Tracy and while they were there, Daniel had demonstrated, quite spectacularly, how far he could project his dinner when he threw it back up. It had been a case of ‘all hands on deck’ to sort out the mess and now, two days later, it was apparent that his upset tummy was the result of a stomach bug. Myka had caught it and Christina was convinced that it was the end of the world.

While Vanessa was upstairs, checking Myka’s vitals and making sure that the baby wasn’t too distressed, Helena was sitting in the garden, watching her daughter shred leaves into tiny pieces. After many attempts to calm her bouts of frustration in the house, she had insisted that they both get some fresh air. The crispness of the afternoon breeze gave only temporary relief however.

“Love, why don’t we take some measurements of the tree while we’re out here?” Helena asked, trying in vain to distract the girl. “The weather is improving. We may be able to move from planning to construction before long.”

Christina looked from her mother to the large, perfectly centred tree and simply shrugged. A month ago, she would have jumped at the chance. Now, it just didn’t seem so important. It was like her drama and dance classes. Though she had decided to keep going, they didn’t hold the same thrill that they once had.

HG took in the indivertible worry on the eight-year-old’s features and felt her heart clench. It pained her that she was trying and failing to distract her daughter from what was happening with Myka. That was her job wasn’t it; to protect her children? Christina was hurting and all of her efforts to lessen that hurt were hitting a solid wall.

“Darling, try not to worry so much. Mama is going to be fine, you’ll see,” she smiled gently and held her arms out to invite the girl closer. To her surprise though, Christina stamped her foot and thrust her arms across her chest.

“No!” she cried, her expression slipping from sadness to fury. Her mother’s eyebrow shot up as she stamped her foot again and thrust her arms against her sides, hands bunched into fists. She wasn’t sure what to do with her body; she was uncomfortable, hot and angry. All she knew was that she really didn’t want to be touched right now. “Adults always say that everything will be alright, but it’s not always alright!”

Tears appeared in the girl’s eyes and Helena ached to hold her. Abigail had advised her and Myka to let their daughter vent when she was consumed by one of her moods. This was the first time Helena had really been tested since that conversation. Lowering her hands calmly to her lap, she tried to suppress the need to fix everything and took a slow breath through her nose. “Ok. I’m sorry. I know bad things happen sometimes but that doesn’t mean that bad things will always happen,” she reasoned while acknowledging that her daughter had a point. A dozen other thoughts passed through her mind, but she held onto them. If Christina was to vent her feelings, she needed space to do so.

It didn’t take long.

“I don’t want to _hear_ that Mama will be alright!” Her lip began to wobble and she wiped furiously at her tears. “I want her to _be_ alright!”

She sucked in several gulps of air and looked around desperately for something on which to take out her anger. A nearby plant-pot caught her eye and before she could think about what she was doing, the sound of shattering pottery and her mother’s sharp gasp filled her ears. Shell-shocked, she stared down at the fragments of the now broken container and angry tears became rivers of sorrow. Turning from the chaos, she threw herself into her mother’s arms and felt her body sag into the familiar warmth.

Helena pulled Christina into her lap where she sat on the bench and rocked her slightly as she made soothing sounds into disarrayed hair. These mood swings were not only distressing for her and Myka, but by the expression of shock and regret on the eight-year-old’s face, the periods of uncontrollable emotion were taking their toll on Christina too. She really hoped that Abigail’s suggestions took effect soon.

“Mummy?” A small, muffled voice reached HG’s ears a few minutes later.

“Yes, my love?” Helena prompted.

“Is Mama _really_ going to be alright?” Christina asked.

The inventor took a moment to formulate her response. Her daughter wanted the comfort of hearing that her world wasn’t falling apart, but she didn’t want empty platitudes. It really boiled down to needing to understand what was happening. Helena could relate to that. Though Christina kept many of her thoughts close to her chest, when she did ask questions, she wanted in-depth answers.

Still stroking back wavy locks, HG looked down into dark, tear-tired eyes with her most sincere expression. “As you rightly said, Christina; everything is not always alright. But I do believe that this time it will be. We will have to be careful to keep a closer eye on your Mama for the next few days but I imagine the worst she will suffer, other than the discomfort of being sick of course, will be de-hydration, which is why Dr Calder is here.” She lifted the girl’s face gently to make sure she had her attention. “When I was expecting you, I came down with a stomach complaint more than once. While unpleasant, I wasn’t in any real danger of dying from the illness because I had so many people taking care of me.”

“Is that true?” Christina demanded to know, her expression now somewhere between disbelieving and hopeful.

HG nodded and then smiled slightly as a memory resurfaced. “The first time, I was on a sight-seeing excursion with Rosalie and I vomited under a tree beside La Tour Eiffel.” She caught the flicker of what might have been the beginning of a smile and continued, “It certainly broke up the afternoon ennui.”

Christina stared at her mother for several seconds as if deciding whether to believe her or not. Finally, she sank her head back into a compliant shoulder and sighed a long sigh, her body releasing much of its pent up concern. Minutes passed before she spoke again.

“Mummy, will the geraniums die now?” the girl asked as she eyed up the scattered shards of pottery.

HG bit her tongue as she began automatically to answer in the affirmative. She searched her brain for another response and decided on something more realistic; closer to what she hoped her daughter wanted from her. “I’m not sure, petal. If we make haste and re-pot them, they will probably live, so long as most of them remain intact. I do believe that the pot took the brunt of your ire.”

They remained huddled together until the chill in the air forced them back inside and they made their way upstairs where Myka was fast asleep. Helena watched as Christina tentatively approached the bed and curled up next to her Mama. Rather than being worried about the girl catching anything, the inventor knew that her daughter would benefit from the comfort more than she might suffer under the illness.

Speaking in hushed tones at the foot of the bed, she caught up with Dr Calder and found what she had expected; Myka was fine other than being a little short on fluids and tired from her efforts to fight off the infection. A day or two and she would be back to normal. Vanessa asked for Helena to keep her in the loop before promising to be back the next day.

After seeing the doctor out, HG returned to her bedroom and crept over to where her most precious gifts lay. Myka was out like a light, her forehead damp from her body’s over-exertion, but otherwise ok. Christina was yawning sporadically as she looked up at Helena and blinked slowly.

“Are you going to stay here while I get dinner ready?” she asked softly as she perched carefully on the edge of the bed. Christina nodded and she kissed the girl several times, earning her a longed-for giggle, before she closed the door on the pair and made her way downstairs.

Alone in the kitchen, Helena flopped onto a stool and lowered her head into her hands. Despite her little girl’s meltdown today, she was encouraged by the improvement she and Myka had seen in Christina since the week began. She only wished _she_ was having as much success with her own inner issues.

Helena breathed a sigh of relief to have a moment to herself at last. Not that she wished pain or illness on either of her girls, but it had been almost two weeks since Christina and Myka’s return to the twenty-first century and this was the first opportunity she’d had to herself to process. More and more, the inventor looked at her family and got caught up in how wonderful they were. Myka, the soul-mate she was trying so hard to be worthy of, Christina, their little miracle number one and ‘the bump’, Fredrick, their little miracle number two.

It wasn’t the first name she would have chosen for her son. In fact, Fredrick had appeared nowhere on either hers or Myka’s list of names, but somehow it just seemed to fit. Perhaps because she remembered Christina and her imaginary friend all those years ago, or perhaps because Myka referred to him so enthusiastically now as ‘our Freddy’, but whatever the reason, Fredrick Charles was to be her son’s name. Surname yet to be decided.

Christina seemed alternately excited and anxious to see her baby brother. She spent much of her time with Myka, touching her bump, singing nursery rhymes or else reading to Freddy. She asked often how long they were expected to wait for him to come out, though she could easily do the math herself. She played make-believe with her dolls and asked Helena repeatedly to show her how to bathe the baby and change a nappy. She seemed prepared to help in whatever way she could.

What worried Helena and Myka most was the lack of questions regarding the ‘twins’. Christina had been so excited about the idea of having not one, but two sibling that it struck her parents as odd that there had been no mention of the difference since the return from London. They had disagreed over how to explain the change, with HG wanting to keep any explanation simple and Myka wanting to disclose the truth, no matter how long it took to explain everything, but then their daughter accepted her brother with no question of another sibling and they hesitated.

Myka worried that keeping the facts secret would harm their little girl at some point in the future but knowing from the source that Christina wouldn’t learn the truth until her teens, Helena argued that there had to be a reason for their reticence. Eventually, reluctantly, they agreed to wait until the girl asked. So far, she appeared blissfully ignorant.

Helena stared across the kitchen as she considered who else was blissfully ignorant for the moment. Though she had tried to open the topic with Abigail and tried to tell herself daily that she needed to get rid of her doubts and pay Myka more attention, it was becoming harder and harder to touch her fiancée without feeling like she was tainting Myka’s goodness somehow. She ached to wrap her arms around that body, to kiss those lips with all the devotion she felt but her stomach clenched with shame and she felt herself pulling back each time she remembered the misery she’d inflicted on her soul mate.

They were destined for one another, brought together by mystical forces to spend their lives in each other’s arms. They were forever, and Helena had never felt more confident in that fact, but that didn’t assuage her of any wrong doing and until she could come to terms with her mistakes, she knew she would continue to feel undeserving of Myka’s light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next... A look back at HG in Warehouse 12 after Christina and Myka return to the future.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos!

 

Chapter Four

Dark, haunted eyes flitted around at the spread of books on the shelves of Leena's library while a foot crossed over an ankle and tapped an anxious staccato.

"It feels pointless to discuss the matter further. They are dead and gone. I can hardly demand answers from them now." HG scowled, her gaze darting across the room to focus briefly on Ms Cho before shifting away again. "Knowing my grandmother however, they will still have a hand to play."

Abigail suppressed her amusement at the inventor's petulant attitude. Whenever they spoke about the Wells regents and their secretive behaviour, Agent Wells' demeanour became ever so slightly childish. Eleanor and Rupert had been like parents to the inventor and so it was no surprise that she found it difficult to separate herself from her inner child. "What makes you think that?"

The agent sighed, ran an agitated hand through her hair and closed her eyes...

_Her hand still tingled where she'd touched Myka's cheek and she swallowed a sob as she watched her lover and child disappear into the annals of time. Before she could move to wrap her arms around herself, she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to fall into her grandmother._

_Eleanor stroked through Helena's hair, recalling the many times she had done so when the agent had been a child. When HG hadn't understood why Charles was allowed to go to school more often or why he was never told off for wearing trousers and climbing trees. Why her mother insisted that she practise piano or learn to sit like a lady rather than experiment with science and mathematics. The regent had hope that the future would accept her granddaughter's uniqueness more readily but until then, she would continue to offer what comfort she was able._

_Helena slowly pulled herself together and released the Wells matriarch. She sniffed and dried her tears with a handkerchief. "Before you brainwash me, I would like some answers." She stared round at her superiors, waiting for a response._

_Rupert nodded along with his colleagues. "I think that is fair. Though keep in mind that we do not have many satisfactory answers." He indicated that they should sit and took position next to his wife._

" _What can you tell me about this threat? What precisely should I be looking out for?" HG asked as soon as she had everyone's attention._

_Caturanga templed his fingers together and leant forward with his elbows on his knees. "The threat is not clear. There is no tangible evidence to indicate who, what or when. It is almost certain that your children will encounter the moment when our enemies rear their heads. However, I cannot tell if events will escalate in your lifetime."_

" _All the more reason I should know now what to prepare for. You cannot expect that I will leave my children in the dark." I'm not you! she wanted to say but somehow managed to hold in the urge._

" _It will come from within the Warehouse," the caretaker conceded. "It could be people, a curiosity or a combination. Personally, I am predisposed to believe that a threat of such magnitude will reach into the highest positions of our organisation."_

" _Amongst the regents you mean?"_

" _I think it likely. I would caution you against making assumptions though."_

" _Helena love, we understand your frustration and your anger but please try to see this from our view point. With a danger that could materialise in any form, at any time, you need to be vigilant without seeing shadows everywhere." Eleanor patiently explained. "Are you able to trust that we will do everything in our power to leave what protection we can without our adversaries catching wind of our suspicions?"_

_HG eyed her companions for some time, contemplating the essence of what they were saying. She tried to imagine the transformation the Warehouse would go through before she was destined to make her appearance there in the future. If the threat did go as high as the upper echelons, any records would be readily accessible to them._

" _Bugger," Helena muttered under her breath. "What are Myka and I to do?"_

" _What you and Agent Bering do best, dear," Rupert smiled. "Trust your instincts and each other."_

" _Helena?" Eleanor recognised the brewing storm behind the young agent's eyes. "What are you thinking?"_

" _Well... It's just that it is complete bollocks, is it not?" The inventor pushed out of her seat, one hand holding onto the back of her chair while the other fell against her bump. Hearing her lover's name sparked a sharp pang of want and need. Suddenly, she felt very much alone without the American. "You want me to be a pawn... You want my family and I to be pawns, though our place is not to ask why or any other sensible enquiry that might aid our survival. I have already to accept that I cannot... must not, prevent my child's death." She gazed at the walls surrounding them, redirecting her ire. "Must we be used at every turn!?" Eyes flicking between her grandparents, she stalked towards the door. "I would be content never to smell another apple in favour of relevant knowledge!"_

_Before anyone could stop her, Helena had pushed passed the door and within seconds was sequestered amongst the shelves and their wares._

_Understanding their caution and being content with it were two very different feelings. She knew that she couldn't really blame her superiors for not having all of the answers. That frustration could be directly aimed at the Warehouse. She was still very much sore at her grandparents and mentor for keeping the truth of the regents' identities from her. Now that Myka was no longer there to distract her, she couldn't help thinking back to all the times she had been called out on assignment and they had known all along what she was doing._

_Her flight from their company was born out of a growing irritation but as she wandered amongst the endless wonders around her, she felt that annoyance gradually dissipate. No matter what their excuses, she knew that they believed them valid and in their minds, they were protecting her. She couldn't fault their intentions. After all, even without any knowledge of what she was walking into, she had somehow survived into the future in order to send her progeny back into the past to begin the cycle over again. Was it really as simple as just waiting for the right time and the right sign?_

_As this thought began to take shape in her mind, Helena found herself wandering back in the direction she'd come._

_Not expecting anyone to be close by, she was surprised when she turned into the last aisle to find a figure loitering part way down, his stance indicating that he was taking stock of the inventory but HG noticed that his head was tilted more than necessary toward the closed door, behind which the regents and caretaker assumedly still waited._

_A roiling unease churned in her stomach, a side-dish to the hatred she felt as she recognised her colleague. "Kipling," she acknowledged in a growl as she drew near to him._

_Startled, he froze at the inventor's appearance. A mirroring dislike painted his features before it was replaced by a superior smirk. "Wells. Taking a stroll?"_

_Helena's eyes narrowed as her arms crossed over her chest. From the moment she'd first met him, Agent Kipling had made her skin crawl and at this moment, it was as if part of her was clawing from the inside in an attempt to escape his presence. "I was led to believe that you were confined to one area of the Warehouse. Do you have permission to be wandering out of your cage?"_

" _It is called 'using one's initiative'. I wouldn't expect a woman to understand the steps one can take to prove their usefulness. To become indispensible."_

_Determined not to rise to the bait, HG bit the inside of her cheek. He was trying to distract her and she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction. "So you believe that you will be forgiven for ignoring a direct command because you're pretending to take inventory. I think you'll find that is called 'being delusional'," Helena countered. "Perhaps you should see a doctor about that. Mental health is a serious issue."_

_One of his eyes ticked in the corner and he took a step closer, using his height in an attempt to intimidate her. "You think you're so clever, Wells, but you're barely even a foot-note in the history of this place. You think you and your latest whore have bested me?" He laughed and caught her wrist as she attempted to slap him. "Touched a nerve have I? Where is she now, HG?" he mocked, his grip tight, unaware that it was only the inventor's self-control that was allowing him to stay standing. "Did she not want any more brats? Did she run when she found out about this?" His free hand moved towards her stomach but before it could make contact, he felt her wrist twist under his hand and then yelled as his arm was pulled in the wrong direction and he found himself on his knees, struggling to get free._

" _Dare to touch me again and you will not live to realise your mistake," HG hissed into his ear. She pushed him forward and took a small step back, her blood pounding in her veins as she waited for the attack that was sure to come. He was simply too proud and conceited to give in and leave to lick his wounds._

_Jumping up, he growled and lunged, his eyes full of hatred. Helena modified her stance so that she wouldn't meet him head on; using his momentum to throw him off. As he turned for another attack, the door at the end of the aisle opened and Caturanga stepped out._

" _Agent Kipling!" he called, sounding angrier than Helena had ever heard him._

_Kipling came to an abrupt halt but stared at the woman before him, seething. "I am not done with you, Wells," he hissed under his breath. Appearing to relax, he turned his back on his fellow agent and adopted what he thought was a contrite expression. "My apologies, sir. I thank you for your timely intervention. It is beneath me to allow one woman to get under my skin so, but agents should be held to a higher standard. If she is to continue to work amongst us, I recommend teaching her to respect authority. Perhaps begin with some basic lessons in manners, though I will be astounded if they stick."_

_Seeing Caturanga's expression of warning, HG bit hard against her tongue. It worried her that he had any recollection of Myka at all, but they had warned her that it would take time to come into effect, and those physically closest would remember clearer details for longer. She just hoped that he wasn't somehow immune to the artefact's powers. The last thing she wanted was her lover in his mind. Pushing her anger aside, HG chose to imagine that Agent Kipling was nonexistent and passed him swiftly to disappear into the far room._

_She stalked its length, not inviting any sort of enquiry from her grandparents and clenching her fists so that her nails bit into her palms. The moment Caturanga rejoined their cosy group, the inventor's indignation pinned him down._

" _What the bloody hell was he doing wandering around without restraint!?" she demanded, irately._

_Eleanor and Rupert exchanged puzzled looks. "Kipling?" the gentleman guessed, turning his gaze on the caretaker._

_Caturanga's usual jovial demeanour was absent as he took his seat once more. "He is bolder than we assumed; knowing that something was taking place in here, he made sure to situate himself close by." Pausing for a moment, his eyes drifted over his protégé. "His dislike for our Agent Wells appears to be gaining intensity."_

" _He approached you?" Rupert asked, his concern growing._

_HG flushed at the memory of Kipling's threatening presence. For someone who was not easily rattled, Helena resented the tinge of fear that had touched her mind as she stood trading barbs with him. "We discussed each other's demerits. He insulted Myka and then tried to touch me," her hand hovered automatically over her bump. "Needless to say, I had no intention of letting that happen. You are certain that he will forget about Myka and Christina?"_

" _I will make sure to question him before the day is out." Caturanga said as he appeared still to consider the rogue agent._

_HG recognised the expression and quickly realised that the regents were wearing the same facade. "You all believe that he may be involved in this mysterious, future evil? I can well believe that he is devious enough but I would question whether he has the intelligence to mastermind a viable plot against the Warehouse."_

" _He may just be the catalyst for future bodies to take up the mantel, or he may indeed be a pawn to a higher power." Eleanor suggested thoughtfully. "I have to agree that he does not strike me as much more than a thug. Indeed, considering our vetting process, I have to wonder how he was identified as a promising agent to begin with."_

" _It is a wonder," Helena agreed, finally retaking her seat. "It is one more thing to keep in mind while maintaining the vigilance you spoke of. Though, of course, I will try not to get hung up on one idea," she added as she recalled their earlier warnings._

_Eleanor leant forward in her chair and placed a comforting hand on her granddaughter's knee. "It is not much to go on with, my darling. We realise that. However, we shall ensure that any further information gathered will reach you at the right time. You have no need to fear that." She offered a knowing, raised eyebrow, her eyes twinkling slightly. "We have no intention of leaving you entirely in the dark either."_

_Mildly reassured, the inventor managed a small smile before rising from her creaky, wooden chair again and taking a deep breath. "If you are certain that there is nothing more I need to know, I think I would like to be done with our task. The sooner we are done, the sooner Myka and I shall be together. In theory at least."_

" _Very well, love." The Wells matriarch rose to embrace the agent. Her arms encapsulating the young mother-to-be and squeezing just a fraction tighter than usual. "We will return home and begin the preparations for your journey to Harold and Rosalie's house in Paris." Keeping her hands on HG's shoulders, she gazed into trusting mahogany orbs. "Caturanga will organise a carriage to deliver you to our house when the procedure is over. Does that suit?"_

_Helena opened her mouth to speak, felt a wave of emotion constrict her throat and snapped it shut again. Wrapping her arms around her Norie again, the inventor held onto the knowledge that she and her beloved grandparents had more in common than she could ever have imagined. She hoped fiercely that the numerous hints about somehow having contact with them in the distant future would come to fruition._

" _I do wish that I had more time to work alongside you and grandpa," Helena bemoaned._

_Rupert stood to move closer to his family and reached out to brush a strand of ebony hair behind Helena's ear. "We are always working alongside you, my love. You will not know that we are there; a regent's anonymity is unfortunately an essential feature of their position. However, when you recall this moment once again, know that we have always been by your side."_

_Seeing the deep seeded belief in her grandfather's eyes, Helena nodded and wiped away the last of her tears. Myka had reminded her that she would miss the American only as long as she retained her memories. Much as she disliked the idea of forgetting her extended family's link to the Warehouse, she wasn't truly losing them. Whereas, the hollow churning that marked her lover's departure would remain so long as she remembered. She didn't want to continue this way._

" _I will see you this evening then," Helena forced through her constricted throat. Stepping away, she moved to stand next to Caturanga and forced a half-smile. "I have a hankering for beef and onion stew if you've a mind to pander to my cravings."_

_Gripping her own emotions in an iron fist, Eleanor chuckled lightly. "Consider it done." She slipped an arm around her husband's bicep, squeezing just enough to silently communicate her need for his supportive strength._

_Rupert placed a hand over his wife's and began to guide them to the door. "When you have your memories back, please greet the family on our behalf."_

" _Of course," HG nodded stiffly._

" _Oh, and Helena?" Rupert turned a stern expression back on his granddaughter who raised an eyebrow at him. "Behave," he warned as his face softened and his eyes crinkled with fondness._

_Her expression turning incredulous, HG's eyebrow made a slow ascent. "Improbable," she told him and smiled unrepentantly._

" _Take care, Helena," Eleanor breathed in a final farewell._

_Her smile falling, HG nodded mutely and watched the regents leave. Taking a deep breath, she faced her mentor and gestured for him to lead the way. Her body might be travelling to the future in the bronze sector, but a portion of her mind was going to take a different route._

Recovering from the memory, Helena opened her eyes and zeroed in on the therapist. "My grandmother indicated as much."

"How does that make you feel now that you remember their involvement?"

HG shook her head. Her thoughts were conflicted. "They lied to me so often that I can hardly separate fact from fiction, but they had a job to do and thought they were protecting me. How should I feel? Appreciative or betrayed? I cannot go back, so I must hold out hope that our paths will cross again and I can ask them vis-à-vis."

"And in the meantime, you will continue to let these feelings fester?" Abigail challenged. During her time with the inventor, she had learned when to be subtle and when to force the issue home.

"What is your point?" Helena asked sharply.

"How do you suppose that will affect your relationship with those closest to you?" An incensed glance shot her way but she held her posture.

The inventor shifted uncomfortably, the therapist's words hitting a little too close to her current predicament, but she had deliberately steered clear of the darkest of her fears and she wasn't about to let them out now. She would deal with them, in her own way.

"Myka met them. I will speak to her if I feel the need. Will that satisfy you?"

Abigail ignored the obvious annoyance in HG's voice, her analytical mind searching for the source of the issue beneath the emotional responses. Helena was certainly one of her most stubborn patients to date but she wasn't about to give up. "It would, if I could be confident that you will talk to Myka."

"Are you insinuating that I am lying?" Agent Wells' indignant tone surfaced behind her increasing irritation.

"I believe that you _want_ to talk to your partner, but I am doubtful that you will." Ms Cho declared boldly. "From what I have witnessed in the last few days, you seem to be keeping a lot to yourself. With the best intentions I imagine."

"Am I not permitted to keep some thoughts to myself?" HG asked acerbically.

"Of course," Abigail answered reasonably. "Though I think we both know that certain things are best laid out in the open. You're deflecting, Helena. You know quite well that I expect a straight answer from you. This discussion is pointless if you're not prepared to be truthful, even if it's to tell me that you don't wish to discuss it and to mind my own business."

Helena rolled her eyes but held her tongue. She knew the therapist had good reason to question her and she was pleasantly surprised at how insightful the young woman was. She desperately wanted to talk to Myka but would she? All evidence from recent events pointed to the contrary. Perhaps it was time she swallowed her pride and asked for help.

"I _do_ wish to talk to her," she admitted hesitantly.

"What's stopping you?" Abigail asked, her tone softer as she watched the shadows behind the agent's eyes ebb and flow.

* * *

Christina lay upside-down on the couch in the library of Leena's bed and breakfast, her legs peeking over the top of the cushions and her head angled towards the ground, hanging over the edge of the seat.

Since beginning therapy with the young girl and her parents, Abigail had discovered that they all appeared calmer and more receptive when surrounded by books. Perhaps it was the smell of the familiar or the reminder of a particular unreality to escape into. Perhaps both. Whatever the reason, the library was reserved for their sessions, whether here or in the agents' home.

"Could you tell me about last night?" the young therapist asked gently.

Christina smirked mischievously. "Yes."

Abigail waited a beat and then smiled at the girl's teasing. "Would you, please?"

"Ok," the eight-year-old conceded, flipping over in a move that would have made most adults very dizzy. "I wanted to finish my model but they wouldn't let me. I only needed five more minutes." She picked at the fabric of the couch, knowing that she hadn't been fair to her parents the night before but not prepared to admit the fact.

"Is that why you smashed it?"

Automatically, Christina began to tear up at the reminder. She wasn't sure why she had done it but she had felt so frustrated and angry that her body lashed out of its own accord. Seeing the shock on her Mama's face and the remnants of her creation littering the floor had drawn from her a flood of inconsolable sobs. By the time she was in bed, her agreed bedtime had long since passed and her Mummy had had to lie with her, stroking her hair to calm her down before she would drift off.

The eight-year-old shrugged guiltily. "I guess so." She paused and then added, "It was only five minutes though."

"Do you recall the conversation we had a few weeks ago, about how we were going to make bedtime more relaxing for everyone?" She watched Christina nod and chose her next words carefully. "How do you feel about the changes we agreed on?"

Dark eyes looked up from beneath long lashes. "I guess it's fair."

Smiling, the therapist gazed lengthily into young eyes, hoping for more but it didn't come. "Is that how you feel or how you think you should feel? Take your time," she suggested.

Closing her eyes so she could concentrate on the little voice inside, as she'd been instructed, Christina thought back to the conversation she and her parents had had with Abigail. She felt her insides knot as she thought about the promises they'd all made. So far, she was the only one who had broken any of them. "It's fair," she eventually agreed.

"Why do you think you reacted the way you did last night if deep down you know that it's fair of Myka and Helena to ask you to get ready for bed at the agreed upon time?" The therapist sat back in her seat as she watched and analysed the changing expression on the girl's face. "Can you remember how you felt at the moment Myka asked you to tidy up?"

Several minutes passed in silence while Abigail gave the girl time to think. She didn't push. Her experience with Christina taught her that the eight-year-old wasn't in complete control of her outbursts and didn't know how to temper her temper when it was triggered. Having always been a very easy-going child according to HG, she had very little experience of anger and thus, very few strategies to deal with the volatile emotion. Over the last few weeks, they had developed a strong level of trust and she knew that the girl would share any conclusions she came to. The eight-year-old wanted to stop feeling so angry and was prepared to help in any way she could.

"They were arguing again," a whispered admission came from the couch. "They don't think I know when they do it. Mummy's voice gets all tight and she tries to sound excessively cheery. She calls Mama, 'Myka' more often too instead of 'Darling'. Then Mama stops looking at Mummy and rubs her neck a lot." Tears gathered more rapidly this time and Christina drew her knees up to her chest as Abigail grabbed a box of tissues and moved to sit beside her. "I think they fight because of me." She lowered her head onto her knees and tilted it to one side so she could still see the woman next to her. "I don't like it when they argue... And I made it worse last night... I don't want to make them cross with each other."

Abigail listened attentively, particularly to what the girl was saying beneath her words. CJ blamed herself for their animosity but still found herself acting up when her emotions were particularly strong. It was an obvious cry for attention. A cry of protest. As she knew well that both Myka and Helena were devoted to their daughter and spent a good deal of time every day dedicated to her entertainment, education and general well-being, if Christina was demanding attention constantly then it wasn't surprising that tensions were rising between the couple.

It came back to what Abigail had hypothesised early on; fear of separation. It was to be expected with everything the girl had been through recently and her parents had agreed to the theory when they had their first session, but the therapist hadn't wanted to act on something she wasn't yet sure about. She was a professional after all. Now, she was sure.

Turning to Christina and holding out a tissue Abigail chose her words carefully. "Your parents love each other very much, even when they argue. And it doesn't matter how many times you shout, scream and break things, they will never stop loving you." She paused to give the eight-year-old time to absorb this.

Ever so gradually, CJ's rigid posture relaxed and her head bobbed up and down in understanding. Her Mummy and Mama had told her as much but somehow it became more real when Abigail declared this very vital victual of information. She swallowed it, feeling a tangible sense of comfort sink into her belly. "I still don't want them to argue," she added softly.

"And I'm sure you also don't want to keep feeling the way you do. Remember, you are not responsible for how Myka and Helena choose to deal with their disagreements. I will help them to discover the source of their tension and work with them to deal with their frictions in a less antagonistic way, but all you need to concern yourself with is how we manage your difficulties. All right?"

A tentative smile curled from the corner of Christina's mouth. She liked the way that her new friend made everything sound simple without talking down to her. Abigail insisted that she focus only on things that were relevant without dismissing her concerns altogether. "Ok."

"Let's talk through what happened last night then and see if we can't discover where events began to take control of you instead of the other way around."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next... Helena's stubborn silence has consequences and Claudia saves the day.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter to go after this one guys. After that, it'll be a few weeks before I have enough of The Birth to start posting again. A hint to get your comments in now?

Sitting in the kitchen, hands cupped around a mug of herbal tea, Myka glanced surreptitiously over at her fiancée, who stood staring out of the window at the back yard. They had barely spoken to one another since the previous night's argument. Myka was still smarting from the sense of rejection she had felt and couldn't figure out quite what had happened.

_While Christina was occupied in her room with her model, the brunette stood observing Helena. The inventor wandered around the nursery with intent, her tape-measure clicking and clacking as she moved from corner to corner, taking notes. Myka's hand rested on her bump, stroking absent-mindedly. She adored Helena's enthusiasm when it came to their children. Recently, with her fluctuating hormones, every fond thought translated into a desire to feel her lover pressed tightly against her. Maternal Helena was very sexy._

_Following a whim, Myka pushed the door softly closed and approached her lover from behind, her hands grasping the woman's hips. Leaning forward, she brought her lips to the shell of an ear and whispered, "You have no idea how much I want you right now."_

The first couple of days following her return to the twenty-first century had proved emotionally, and thus, physically exhausting. Myka had revelled in the extra attention her fiancée showed her; taking delight in stolen moments of hot and heavy petting in the bathroom, or waking to familiar caresses, pressing against the Brit until the sounds of feet outside the door halted their efforts.

By the end of the day, they had both been too fatigued and aware that they might have a night-time visitor to their room. In daylight, they had not had enough time alone. It hadn't mattered much then though; they were together and the stolen glances filled with mutual anticipation were worth it. There was no doubt in Myka's mind that she was still desired.

Now though?

_Rather than have Helena melt into her arms as expected, Myka felt her partner's body stiffen. Instinctively, the brunette reacted in kind but then, thinking that she was over-reacting, Myka relaxed and leant her forehead against the inventor's shoulders. "Do you think we'll ever have a whole day to ourselves without worrying about innocent eyes around every corner?" She heard a small chuckle in response but it sounded half-hearted, making doubt rise in her thoughts as the inventor turned around. The moment their eyes locked, she felt the other woman pull away. A sharp lump appeared suddenly in her throat. "Helena, what's going on?"_

_As if realising her mistake, HG reached out for the American's hand and stroked a thumb over its back. "Nothing, love. I would simply like to start this project. You have to know how irresistible you are," she added teasingly before leaning in to kiss her fiancée on the cheek._

_Myka smiled in response but instinct kept that lump lodged firmly in her throat. "I'll leave you to it then." As her hand dropped Helena's and she retreated toward the door, she felt a chasm of something long forgotten fill the space between them._

They hadn't discussed the incident; Myka hadn't wanted to pursue her concerns, telling herself that she was making something out of nothing, but deep down, she worried more that she was right. What if Helena had stopped wanting to be intimate with her? Had those hot and heavy days after her return given her a false impression of how her lover felt? She had assumed that their prolonged dry spell was more to do with the stress of dealing with their daughter's restless nights, but as she looked back at the last couple of weeks, she began to log more and more evidence to support her growing suspicions.

For whatever reason, her fiancée was pulling away from her and unbeknownst to her, she had been letting it happen.

After walking out of the nursery, she made the mistake of doubting herself, doubting her instincts, and reverted to a former version of herself. Instead of taking time to gather her senses and confront Helena, she had let the issue slide. Consequently, the afternoon had consisted of Myka's inner administrator logging all of her complaints. Complaints which erupted spectacularly over the post-dinner washing up.

" _You're doing it again," Myka grumbled through clenched teeth. "I can manage this alone. You promised Christina you would help with her model before bed." She was carrying plates from the dining room into the kitchen and after a day of suppressing her emotions, she found Helena's hovering and over-protectiveness more annoying than sweet._

_HG paused in the motion of collecting the heavier items from the table. "I promised no such thing. I merely mentioned that I would like to see her progress before the evening is over."_

" _You know she would prefer it if you helped her." Myka's words skipped over any error or her part, her tone suggesting that she was giving an order._

_Following with her arms full, the inventor set her load down heavily, the clanking of the plates and utensils drawing an irritated glare from her fiancée. "Have I not spent the entirety of the afternoon with her while you were incapacitated by your headache?"_

_Myka dropped a pile of cutlery none too carefully into the sink. She winced at the sound and turned an irate stare on the Brit_ _, as if it was somehow Helena's fault. "Oh right, I forgot; the great inventor wanted to finish her project. How inconvenient I must be to you." Feeling angry, hurt tears gathering, she looked to the sink and tried to hide her face._

_A tight knot of guilt forced HG back a step. Forgetting her own irritation, she noticed the rigidity of her fiancée's stance and kicked herself for thinking that she could hide anything from her partner. "Myka..." she began, her tone considerably softer. She moved to place a comforting hand on the American's lower back – she felt awful for being the cause of this tension – but Myka flinched out of the way._

" _You know what?" Agent Bering yanked off the rubber gloves she'd been pulling on. "You do it, since you seem to think I'm incapable of anything." Ignoring Helena's attempts to call her back, she struggled from the room and locked herself in the bathroom. There, her anger broke and hot tears seared twin paths down her cheeks._

_What had happened to force this rift between them? When had it happened? Myka thought that if she could narrow these things down, she could figure out the why, but it wasn't until much later when she was lying in bed, back to the door and feigning sleep, than an inkling of an idea came to mind._

_This lack of physical closeness had begun about the same time that Helena had recovered her memories. At the time, the sudden and intense neediness of their daughter had demanded their full attention and their impulsive, teen-like make-out sessions had come to a screeching halt. Myka thought little of it as her baby girl became the priority but had she missed something? In all the chaos, had she missed Helena's struggles? The change had been so gradual but now that she considered her memories of the past two weeks, she saw the slow but sure decline of intimacy between them._

Something in Helena's memories of their time together in London was weighing heavily on the Brit's mind.

* * *

_Good God, she's beautiful, H. You are bloody stupid, do you know that?_

Helena heard her brother's voice in her head, clear as day, and felt the shame of her actions hit her hard. Though he was long gone, she knew what he'd have said. And he'd have been right. Her behaviour reflected the most stubborn parts of her personality; parts she thought she had tamed into submission.

Closing her eyes, Helena threw her mind back to her room at her grandparents' house, one hundred and twenty-five years ago, to one particular night that teased from the forefront of her memory. No matter that it had technically happened more than a century ago, those precious few hours spent making love with Myka still felt like just yesterday.

Perfection. That was Myka. Her wife-to-be embodied the essence of love, passion and beauty. A single night with the American had touched the quick of her; caressed her soul and brought it to life. Though her fiancée would never agree, Helena couldn't help but question whether she deserved to be the focus of that devotion.

She wished she could hold onto the certainty she had felt in the aftermath of that night. The joy deep down inside as she held onto the belief that she and Myka were destined to be. It had been so easy in her naive youth to imagine their happily-ever-after. Filled with the euphoria they'd shared, she'd had no thought for how much she could hurt her mate.

Myka had woken her heart to love. Had given her the gift of motherhood and what had she given in return? Skin and betrayal. Hope answered with misery.

How could she have used Myka so callously when the younger agent had given her everything? This question tortured her the most. She couldn't help feeling that, even with the memory loss, she should have known better. Should have recognised Myka as her soul-mate and treated her accordingly. The memory of Myka's gift to her battled with the memory of her 'gift' to Myka. One summer afternoon, on the couch in the library at Leena's, she had seduced and used her wife-to-be. How could she have treated her love so casually?

Now, how was she supposed to live up to her younger, more open, more carefree self? After Myka's trip into the past, was that who she was expected to be? _That_ Helena was dead and buried. Any attempt to resurrect her would only disappoint.

Movement from across the room pulled her from the kitchen window and her tortured thoughts. She felt her love approach. Feeling her body and mind surrender, she turned and fell wordlessly into waiting arms.

"Helena," Myka beseeched. "Talk to me. I hate feeling like you're hurting and I can't help."

The inventor nodded into her fiancée's neck. She took a deep breath, letting her partner's scent surround her. "I can't promise that I'll make much sense... but I'll try."

"Anything is better than this... distance," the brunette insisted as Helena moved to rest their foreheads together.

They remained embraced, simply sharing the calm quiet that surrounded them for some time. Christina emerged from her session with Abigail before HG could begin to explain her struggles but now that they were both aware that there was an issue, there seemed no reason to rush.

The eight-year-old entered the kitchen and felt her residual tension leave as she spotted her parents hugging. Though Abigail had insisted that she was not responsible for the way Myka and Helena chose to handle their relationship, she knew that her erratic behaviour wasn't helping. Feeling relief crashing through her, she threw herself between the pair and closed her eyes as their arms surrounded and pulled her in.

"Mummy?" Christina murmured into the inventor's chest.

"Yes, my darling," Helena spoke into dark hair.

"May we please start another model later? I promise not to break it and I will try harder to go to sleep on time and stay in my own bed." Her tone was filled with sincerity and she looked up into weary eyes, hoping that she hadn't ruined all her chances of earning some trust.

"Christina, there are always opportunities for you to make a change and start again." Helena held her daughter's face loosely between her hands. She knelt and decided to take her own advice and use the opportunity to impart some wisdom while her girl was willing. "We all make mistakes. We grow and hopefully become better people by learning from those mistakes. You've been working and trying so hard with all the things Abigail has given you. It's ok to slip up occasionally." She glanced up at Myka's teary-eyed smile and added, "We are so proud of you."

Christina's expression brightened until she remembered why she had lost her temper the night before and decided to try something else that Abigail had been encouraging her to do; open up to her parents about the things that worried her. "Mummy, I'm sorry if I made you argue with Mama."

Helena felt Myka's hand tighten around her arm and glanced up again. This time to see regret mirrored back at her. "You heard us?" she asked the girl softly. At a small nod, she pulled the girl into another hug. "Is that what started you off last night? Were you upset because you knew we were arguing?" She felt the nod this time, against her shoulder.

"I thought it might be about me," the eight-year-old confessed after a brief pause.

Not being able to crouch like Helena, Myka stood behind the girl and squeezed her shoulders gently. "Sweetheart... Why didn't you tell us?"

Cautious eyes tilted up to face her. "I am," Christina noted succinctly.

"Good point," Myka chuckled slightly before sobering again. "Mummy and I were having a disagreement but it wasn't about you," the American confessed truthfully.

Nodding, HG added, "And, love? Even when you are the topic of conversation, it is never your fault; adults don't always agree on everything and Mama and I don't always handle out disagreements in the most mature way."

"Why?" the young girl wondered aloud.

Myka shrugged a little. Just how much should they divulge about the ins and outs of their relationship? "I suppose for the same reasons that you struggle to say what you need to say when you're upset; emotions sometimes get in the way."

"We have both been known to exhibit elements of stubbornness on occasion too," Helena finished for her lover.

Above, an eyebrow rose with amusement. "Some of us more than others."

HG rolled her eyes but otherwise ignored the comment. Feeling her legs beginning to protest at the prolonged position, she kissed Christina's cheek and then stood. "Does that help, flower?"

The eight-year-old nodded. "May I go and see Aunt Claudia now?"

Chuckling at the abrupt change in topic, the American placed a kiss on the opposite cheek to Helena's and told her to go and have fun, while warning her gently to stay out of trouble. A few months back, she wouldn't have considered the need for the proviso but recently, her daughter had been pushing the boundaries and Claudia had been known to go a little overboard herself at times. There was no harm in reminding them.

Left alone once more with Helena, Myka slipped a hand around the inventor's waist and let it rest against her lower back. She smiled encouragingly. "Ready for our turn?"

They drifted into the library, hand in hand, and sat closer together on the couch than they had in over a week. The difference did not go unnoticed by the therapist, who immediately decided to take an alternate approach to this session.

"We've spent a lot of time recently focussed on Christina and how to deal with her development but today I want us just to think about the two of you." Abigail sat back in her chair and calmly laid out the rules. "So, without mentioning Christina, talk me through what happened last night."

Myka nervously eyed her fiancée, waiting to see if she wanted to start. When a flicker of panic crossed Helena's expression, the curly-haired agent decided to lay her feelings on the table. She squeezed the Victorian's hand reassuringly as she jumped right in, ignoring the part of her brain that balked at the idea of discussing her sex life.

"Yesterday, I made a pass at Helena while she was working on the nursery. We haven't been intimate since…" She considered the length of time for a moment as the _when_ was sort of complicated. "Well at least a month ago. We've either been too tired or haven't had the time to ourselves."

Abigail watched as Agent Bering faltered, her expression suggesting that she didn't want to hurt her lover's feelings, though it was clear that Agent Wells was aware of what was coming. "How did you respond to those advances, Helena?"

HG closed her eyes, reliving the horrible churning sense of failure as Myka had left her alone. "I told her I was busy."

"Were you?" Ms Cho pushed, wanting to establish a base for truth.

Looking at her partner's confused expression, Helena shook her head. "Not too busy to spend time kissing the woman I love."

"Myka, would you like to tell Helena how that made you feel?"

Still holding dark eyes, Agent Bering nodded and forced her voice out passed a wall of resistance. "Like you don't want me any more. Like maybe I am too fat after all and you just don't desire me now that it's harder for me to move around… or see my feet," she added with a bitter laugh. Tears had begun to spring to her eyes and she lifted a hand to wipe them away.

Helena helped with her free hand against her lover's cheek. She had wanted to deal with this issue alone to avoid this very thing; Myka should never have to suffer for her failures again and yet here they were anyway. It was passed time that she needed to share her fears. "I always desire you. You are no less beautiful in your current state, darling. My distant behaviour has nothing to do with no longer finding you attractive."

"What exactly am I supposed to think when you push me away?" Myka demanded, injecting an element of anger into her tone. "This has something to do with your memories, I know it does. Is it that night we spent together before I came home?"

HG absorbed her love's confused anger like a balm. Like Myka's ire was the cleansing fire that she needed to heal. "In part," she admitted. "Though more as a reminder of how unworthy I am of your presence in my life. I should never have been allowed to…" Her voice trailed off with a rising tide of shame and her gaze fell from the softening green gazing back at her.

Myka watched the play of emotions with dawning understanding, her brain pulling out distant memories to connect with more recent events. Suddenly, everything became clear. "Oh…" She felt her fiancée's hand tighten around hers, this time from fear rather than comfort. "Oh, Helena."

The realisation hit her deep and she wasted no time in pulling the inventor close and wrapping her arms around the distressed figure. She closed her eyes and sank into soft hair as her lover was overcome with shuddering sobs, her body finally releasing the pent up anxiety that she had tried so hard to tackle alone. By the time the two of them emerged from the crushing embrace, they were alone; Abigail apparently having decided that they needed the privacy.

Myka reached for the box of tissues on the coffee table, took one for herself and passed the rest to Helena. She sighed with fond exasperation. "Helena, I didn't take you to bed that night to make you feel guilty about our first time here," she admonished gently. "Our circumstances were entirely different."

HG shook her head. "I know that, Myka, but we had a connection that should have penetrated passed my selfish needs. I treated you callously and though I regretted my actions, I didn't ever take the time to truly consider how you felt." She paused to wipe away more tears and blew her nose. "I just wish that I could have been more like the Helena you met back in the nineteenth century. She wasted away after Christina... I don't think I will ever be able to bring her back." Her voice disappeared with the last word and her shoulders shuddered with the effort to hold back another sob.

As best she could, Myka moved so that she was cuddled up close to her lover's side. She rubbed a hand in small circles over the inventor's back as she tried to put her thoughts carefully into words. "I know that your attentions toward me in our early days at Warehouse 13 were a little thoughtless on your part," she began slowly, immediately gaining her fiancée's attention. "When I thought I might die in your grandparents' guest room, I thought a lot about that afternoon here at Leena's. The one that started on this couch actually," she remembered with a fond smile. "I can't deny that it hurt when I realised that you used me but I forgave you for that a long time ago. I have a new perspective on the whole situation and I can't say that I really blame you at all now. If I was able to bring you any reprieve from your pain then I'm glad for it."

"I seduced you and later snuck out, leaving you alone," HG reminded in a bitter tone, her voice becoming angrier with each word. "Myka, I knew precisely what I was doing. I desired you so I had to have you, regardless of the fact that I intended to destroy us all!"

"And time and time again, I chose the easy route," Myka argued back. "I let you sweep me along on that roller coaster though I knew that you were hurting. I knew that you were struggling with something, but every time I wanted to talk to you, I chickened out. Helena, in London, I had to think long and hard about our past… your past. I tortured myself for days, thinking about all the things I could change if I left enough information with the right people. I could have made your pain easier to bear somehow if I'd tried hard enough but I chose to do nothing." Her voice was brittle with the effort not to let her own guilt show. Though she knew she had made the right decision, it still held weight. "We could talk ourselves in circles, portioning blame for every mistake but ultimately, Helena, every choice we made has led us here. And I don't know about you but I can't bring myself to regret that."

A forlorn expression descended on HG's features and her body sagged as all of her resistance depleted. "You're not disappointed? I don't know that I can give you what we had that night," she asked, referring to her earliest memories of making love with Myka. Her voice held an element of vulnerability that was unusual for her.

"Helena," Myka's amused and exasperated voice breathed once more into silky hair. "I'm flattered that the memory holds such significance for you; I wanted to give you something good to remember but we have had many nights that were just as special to me. Including our time before Yellowstone." She pushed back a lock of hair, exposing the pale, soft skin beneath. Leaning in close, she muttered her next words deliberately to excite, "It was thrilling to be the more experienced one for one night, but your body knows mine better now than it ever has. You know just how to touch me to make me melt. You couldn't have done that so well back then, no matter how enthusiastic you were. That knowledge comes with practise."

Helena basked in these words and turned sharply to catch her partner's encouraging expression. "I suppose I should consider that," she responded with slightly less reluctance. Her eyes flicked across Myka's face and the jolt of excitement she always felt hit her. Only this time, that wriggling urge to be elsewhere, to escape her fear of being discovered as inadequate and undeserving, was quieter, further away. The unconditional devotion staring back at her was humbling and a renewed desire to give this woman everything she wanted blossomed in her heart and mind.

Soft lips moved closer and descended on her own, capturing them in a delicious embrace, banishing the demons that lingered in her mind until she began to forget why she had been so caught up with them in the first place. Later, they would begin to claw their way back, eating into her thoughts again, but she knew now that Myka would be her champion against the dark, so long as she allowed her mate in. Next time, she wasn't going into battle alone.

A timid knock landed on the door some time later, breaking the couple from their rediscovery of each other's touch and taste. Somewhat aware of where they were, an unspoken agreement had kept their kisses and caress light, gradually tugging them into a peaceful haze.

The door creaked ajar and a curious face peeked around the opening. Helena continued to lean her head against Myka's until the sound of sock-soled feet approached and both adults glanced up. "Christina?" HG invited with a smile.

"Aunt Claudia wants to know if I can have a sleep-over with her this weekend? So long as I stay in my own bed tonight and tomorrow," she added as she sank her hands into her skirt pockets and looked up with pleading eyes at her parents.

Helena's eyebrows shot up, her mind racing a mile a minute. Alone time? With Myka? Quietened nerves picked up their tension again, her heart now joining her mind. She felt her fiancée shift beside her and tried to focus on the peace of the last half an hour rather than the inner chaos of the last few weeks.

Myka, in turn, tried not to get her hopes up for more than an evening of talking and cuddling on the couch, through her imagination was already running wild with the possibilities. She recalled the night of their trip to the fair and subsequent date night. It hadn't been easy to put aside her worries and just sink into the moment. Whatever happened, she would let Helena choose the pace, no matter how much her libido demanded more.

"Would you like that?" Helena asked and Myka couldn't tell whether it was nerves or excitement colouring her voice. Christina nodded enthusiastically.

Myka opened her arms to invite the girl onto her lap and closed them around her daughter. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea. Have you ever had a sleep over before?" Her gaze flicked to her fiancée and saw a brief shake of her head.

"Does having Addy stay over count?" Christina asked from her perch.

"Yes, I suppose so," the brunette chuckled. "Though I guess I was really asking if you'd ever had a sleepover at someone else's house. A friend's house, or place of residence," she amended as she glanced around at their surroundings.

"Mummy?" Christina asked as she tried to think and came up with nothing.

"From what I gather of modern day events such as these, you have not. Having Adelaide over to stay was similar though I believe." She forced a dramatic frown and added, "You certainly talked long enough into the night."

"Well, I'm not sure if Claudia has ever had a sleepover before either but I'll bet she remembers her brother and sister having them. She'll give you a real American education on the matter." She ignored the eye roll from her lover and encouraged the eight-year-old from her lap so she could stand up. "I think perhaps Mummy and I should discuss some ground rules with her first."

They found the young redhead in the kitchen along with Leena, Lila and Abigail. Myka felt her ears burning as she observed the quartet; she sensed a plot afoot.

"So, what's the verdict, moms? Am I breaking out the sleeping bags and popcorn for the budding apprentice this weekend or not?" Claudia hopped down from her stool and stood behind the youngest Wells. She stooped to place her head beside Christina's and exaggerated a pout.

Helena shook her head at the pair of them but couldn't hold back a smile. Other than the previous night's incident, which had been triggered by her own stupidity really, her daughter had come a long way in a short time. The tantrums and disrupted nights were less frequent and less intense, and her overall demeanour had begun to reflect her early vivacity. The inventor knew that recent events had changed her daughter irreversibly but the hardships faced appeared to have only made the girl stronger. She only hoped the same would be said about her own struggles.

"I think a sleepover sounds like a wonderful idea," HG agreed. "Your Mama's right though; we will have to discuss some rules with Claudia before Friday."

"Rules!?" the young techie blurted dismissively but then seeing the twin looks of concerned seriousness staring back at her, she quickly amended the statement, "I mean, rules, yay! Can't have fun without rules!"

Myka rolled her eyes. "Nice save, Claude," she commented sarcastically.

Abigail approached the small family next. She was happy to see that the couple seemed more relaxed and that her decision to give them some privacy appeared to have helped but her work for today was not done yet. Listening to the concerns of Myka and Helena's closest friends, she wanted to discuss the inventor's revelations with her. "Christina, why don't you take Claudia and Myka into the living room while you negotiate those do's and don'ts? I would like to spend some time talking to your Mummy."

Helena's raised eyebrows dropped quickly as she looked between the therapist and her fiancée. With a nod, a reassuring smile directed at Christina and a brief kiss with Myka, she made her way back to the library with Abigail in tow.

With the idea of a night or two alone with her fiancée, she wanted to be rid of any lingering uncertainty. Hopefully, Abigail would have some advice on how to destroy her plague of disheartening inner voices once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I can't help worrying that the recovery is too rushed, but maybe that's just me being paranoid about only having six chapters. Any thoughts on whether these developments seem natural enough? I have no first hand experience with these things!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the moment I both love and hate; posting the last chapter. Thank you to anyone who commented and/or sent kudos. As always, my muse is a needy and sometimes insecure creature. She needs a lot of love.
> 
> Shameless begging there, I know!

“Do you have everything, Sweetheart?” Myka asked her daughter as they pulled their shoes on and waited by the front door for Helena.

“Mmhm,” Christina answered in a distracted sort of way. She was fumbling slightly with her laces and seemed to be making very little progress.

Myka smiled fondly. She moved to sit on the stairs and crooked a finger at the girl to call her over. One at a time, she took a foot in her lap and pulled at the laces until they were all sorted. “There,” she said as she let the second foot go. “You’ll have to wear laces more often if you want to practise.”

“I like buckles better.” The eight-year-old looked down at her feet, perhaps contemplating whether to change her shoes or not.

“Is everything ok?” Agent Bering pulled her daughter close and lifted her tense looking face. “You know, you’re allowed to change your mind. Claudia will understand.” She rubbed her hands up and down the girl’s arms. It was a big step for all of them; this being the first time that Christina would be sleeping away from both her and Helena, even if it was just down the street. Myka empathised with her daughter’s hesitance. “Remember, we’re not far away and you’re going to call us before bed. Then tomorrow, we’re joining everyone for brunch. Any time you want to talk, we’re just a phone call away, even while we’re out at dinner or in the middle of the night.”

“I want to go, Mama,” she started to say and then paused.

Myka smiled, tucked the girl’s collar into her jacket and prompted, “But?”

“What if I don’t like it?” the eight-year-old whispered.

Swallowing a selfish desire to have the night clear of interruptions, Agent Bering lowered her own voice. “Any problems, Sweetheart... Anything that Claudia can’t help with, call us, ok? And if we can’t solve it either, we’ll come and get you.” She placed a warm kiss against a pale cheek. “No harm, no foul.” As she hugged the now smiling girl, Myka felt a presence behind her and turned to glance up the stairs.

Helena descended gracefully, her arduous gaze locked on Myka. Having heard most of the exchange, the inventor felt like she was falling in love all over again. She reached the last empty step and then reached down to pull her fiancée to her feet. “Ready?” She slid a hand over the American’s hip and let it rest for a moment against the small of her back as she leant in for a kiss. Myka met her half way and melted.

“We’re ready,” Christina confirmed, taking the inventor’s hand in hers and pulling her towards her shoes and coat. Her excitement had returned with the knowledge that she had an escape plan if things got too much. Mimicking Myka, she knelt and grasped a lace from her Mummy’s left boot in each hand. “I’ll have this done in a jiffy!” She declared enthusiastically.

Helena watched as Myka suppressed a giggle, and felt a flutter in the region of her stomach. Anticipation for the evening was slowly replacing any nerves and the realisation of how long it had been since her hands had traversed that skin; how long it had been since she’d tasted Myka’s desire and watched her come undone; she was starting to see, _really_ starting to see, how much her fears had set her back.

“Here, love,” she finally leant down and untangled the knot that was gathering around the girl’s fingers. “We really need to spend some time working on knots... and bows,” she added as she finally unwound the mess and tied her own lace.

“It’s tricky,” Christina insisted in her own defence. “The laces don’t stay in my fingers.”

“They will,” Helena assured her as she threw her coat on and opened the front door.

With a pack on her back, Christina, reminiscent of months earlier, skipped along the pavement, leaving her parents following at their own pace. Her gaze flitted between the slowly thickening trees and the women holding hands behind her. She smiled to herself when she noticed them looking at each other again. Not the way they had been doing recently, looking when the other wasn’t and then looking away; this looking involved eyes meeting, mouths smiling, cheeks flushing. Staring, as Uncle Pete called it. It was a look that made her believe that everything would be all right.

Almost two hours later, when Myka and Helena found themselves alone in their hallway, there was an awkward silence before HG moved behind her partner and wrapped both arms around her. Myka released a long breath as she placed her own hands atop Helena’s and leant back into the warm body. They stood, swaying ever so slightly, eyes closed and simply absorbing the moment.

“I missed this,” Helena declared into the mass of curls that hid her face. “I missed you.”

Myka turned, her eyes teary at the sentiment. “I didn’t go anywhere,” she reminded the inventor softly. _She_ wasn’t the one who had pulled away.

HG felt the gentle accusation and nodded. “I know.” As much as she wanted things to return to how they had been before the return of her memories, she knew they could only go forward from this point and part of dealing with their problems was acknowledging them. “I am sorry, darling. I should have known better than to hide my feelings from you.”

“Yes, you should have. Unfortunately, we both seem to have this uncontrollable need to protect each other, even from ourselves.” While airing out this issue, Agent Bering realised that she had been guilty of the same thing and she couldn’t let her partner take all of the blame. “I don’t think we can promise to stop doing that,” she noted reasonably.

“We can however, attempt better communication,” Helena finished the suggestion, nodding her agreement while she relaxed further into the American’s arms. “This is wonderful.”

A tingle of want skittered down Myka’s spine and she shivered. After weeks without Helena’s attentive touch, all she wanted to do was take her to bed but, “We have dinner reservations,” she whispered unnecessarily to the woman who’d made them.

HG ignored the warning in Myka’s tone and pressed her lips against the soft skin between her fiancée’s ear and the hinge of her jaw. She smiled as she felt a soft shudder run through the brunette’s body. “I suppose we should head upstairs and get ready then.”

“Huh?” Myka asked distractedly, her mind having taken a detour after the words ‘head upstairs’ had registered. “Oh, yes!” she suddenly remembered, her voice halfway between an exclamation and encouragement for Helena to continue her ministrations. Right at that moment, she wanted to say ‘to hell’ with their reservations and push her fiancée against the nearest flat surface but she had promised herself that she would let Helena set the pace of their evening. No matter what happened, she would be content with just having her lover near.

Tearing herself away from Myka’s neck, HG looked into fiery, green eyes and swallowed back any budding trepidation. Myka, though managing her impatience well, was already trembling with desire. She would be an idiot to doubt her ability to please this woman now. After deciding once and for all that her demons could only be exorcised with Myka’s help, Helena formed a plan for their Friday together. While initially deciding that wining and dining was the best way to start, she had taken note of Myka’s fevered kisses and tight embraces and immediately changed her mind. Instead, she had fast-tracked some new underwear for the American to peel off her and begged Leena to prepare something that they could eat with their fingers without worrying about it getting cold. She intended to spend every moment of their child-free hours seeing to Myka’s needs. They were both vividly aware that their evening could be cancelled at any moment but she didn’t want to rush without any effort to make the occasion special.

“Do you mind if I show you your gift first?” HG asked, her finger brushing along the other woman’s jaw, drawing her attention.

Myka watched her fiancée’s lips move and felt her thoughts drift in and out. “A gift?” she answered after a short pause. “Where?”

“Upstairs,” Helena replied and winked as she kissed lips that beckoned her own. “Give me ten minutes, love,” she instructed before releasing her hold and jogging lightly in the aforementioned direction.

Myka stood, gaze following her lover for a long moment even after the inventor had disappeared from view. Only when she came to her senses did she look at the hall clock to try to figure out how much of that ten minutes was left. Helena flirting with her had always knocked her off kilter, but with her hopes for their immediate future raised high, she felt dazed in the wake of her partner’s open affection. Sure that she had been waiting an age already, she made a note of the time and decided she’d give Helena five more minutes.

Upstairs meanwhile, HG tried to embrace the thrill of the moment as she pulled the curtains to, tossed her clothes in the direction of the washing basket and walked into the en-suite with her latest purchase. For someone who was usually adventurous and by no means a novice in the bedroom, Helena took a steadying breath as she freshened up and slipped into the sheer article of clothing.

Nervous excitement fluttered inside her as she took stock in the mirror and tried to imagine Myka’s reaction. She wanted to appreciate every moment of their time together and worried that Myka would think she was forcing things along too much. She had taken a gamble with rejecting the idea of the restaurant, and now she was hoping it had been the right decision.

Deciding that she looked enticing enough without having gone overboard, Helena pulled on her dressing gown and re-entered the bedroom to find Myka perched on the bed, waiting with a curious expression. A smile lit her features when she caught sight of Helena.

HG reached out a hand and pulled Myka back into her arms. It was so nice to feel free to touch her fiancée again that she didn’t want to stop touching.

“Why do I have a feeling that our plans for the evening have changed?” Myka asked as her fingers traced along the inventor’s exposed collar. “I don’t see any wrapping paper,” she added. _Don’t jump to conclusions,_ she reminded herself, her fingers itching to explore beneath the Brit’s gown.

“I...” HG coughed and felt her knees weaken slightly. She reached up to grasp the brunette’s hands in her own. “Hoped that you might like to stay at home instead.”

Vibrant green met molten brown. “And do what?”

“Unwrap your gift,” Helena whispered. She searched Myka’s gaze and felt her fears melt away.

Swallowing a sudden rush of saliva, Agent Bering ran her eyes along her partner’s figure. Her fingers found their way to slender forearms and teased identical paths towards the elbows and back to the wrists. “This gift...” She began teasingly. “Is it going to keep me occupied all evening? Will I feel compelled to play with it for hours?”

Helena lost momentary control of her legs again and wobbled slightly. She felt Myka’s hands grasp her arms and looked up just in time to catch amusement and desire in equal measure. “God, I do hope so,” she managed to murmur after a breathy pause. “Open it now,” she insisted, finding her patience waning swiftly in the wake of Myka’s playful torment.

Myka placed a light, lingering kiss against soft lips and slipped her thumbs beneath the lapels of Helena’s dressing gown. She teased the material apart, leaving a narrow path for her eyes to travel. The sight that awaited her drew a hungry groan from her throat and she tugged abruptly at the belt, releasing her lover’s figure from its depths.

Helena itched to help, to shrug her wrapper off entirely and expose herself to that devouring gaze. Her eyelids became heavy and drifted shut as two knowing hands found their way to her hips and drifted over the lace pattern there. She felt Myka’s hands trailing across her waist and over her ribs and bit her lip. Blood surged to parts of her body that had sorely missed the sensation and she opened her eyes to one of her favourite sights: Myka taking control.

“I love you,” she whispered, breaking the brunette from her focus and drawing adoring eyes to her own.

Myka raised her gaze from the contrast of sheer, cream silk and black lace to drink in the utter devotion staring back at her. It always amazed her that she could feel so naked and desirable under the intensity of those eyes. There were times when she had to pinch herself to check that all of this was real, times when she wondered if she’d fallen victim to an artefact months ago and was now living out a fantasy with the one she loved. If the former, she considered herself the luckiest woman in the world, if the latter, she never wanted to be rescued.

“Helena,” Myka’s desire darkened voice reverberated against HG’s lips as she closed the gap. “You are my world. I love you so much. Now please, touch me.”

Feeling no more hesitance, Helena pushed long fingers into wavy curls and pulled her lover’s lips more forcefully against her own. She felt Myka’s moan of approval from her mouth to her sternum, the vibrations passing through her skin and muscles to settle in her bones.

They grappled and fumbled their way through layers of clothing, gradually making their way closer to the bed. Myka tried not to show any discomfort as Helena hovered above her atop the mattress and pulled the last of her underwear down her legs. The pressure against her back, against her hips, it didn’t matter, right? All that mattered was her lover’s touch, her lover’s kisses against her neck and across her chest.

Helena’s tongue stroked delicately against an areola before her lips enveloped a nipple with careful precision, her memories reminding her vividly of the sensitivity of her breasts when she’d been expecting Christina. She didn’t want to inadvertently hurt her fiancée. It was only when her attention turned back towards Myka’s lips that she saw something untoward in her lover’s expression.

The juxtaposition of ecstasy against her skin verses the increasing urgency of pain against her pelvis, threatened Myka’s senses for several minutes until she finally broke and dissolved into tears of frustration.

“Myka? Love, what’s wrong?” She lifted her knees onto to the bed and pushed her torso up so she could better see the problem.

Myka blinked to try to clear the tears but failed. How was this happening? She had not been granted this night with Helena only to waste it by being reduced to tears. “Nothing,” she protested before trying to recapture the inventor’s lips.

HG pulled back gently, letting her partner’s mouth brush her own briefly before she relaxed next to the body she loved. “Darling?” she insisted, her tone mellow and calm.

Raising her hands to cover her eyes, Myka huffed a breath of frustration against her palms. “It hurts,” she admitted reluctantly after several long seconds. Her quickening breaths turned from desirous to anguished. “Here,” she pointed to her hips and slowly rolled awkwardly onto her side, hiding her face against Helena’s chest.

Settling against the brunette, HG stroked a hand over the growing protrusion around her partner’s middle, migrating to the crease at the top of a leg as she placed a series of comforting kisses against her temple. “It’s alright, darling,” she whispered in reassurance. “I know.”

“Helena,” Myka whispered once she had her breathing under control. “You’re massaging my ass,” she said stoically, though the relief was evident in her voice.

The inventor’s hand travelled increasingly higher, until she was gently pressing against Myka’s coccyx. “Pelvic pain is normal, love. Hopefully, changing position will help.”

Green eyes closed in involuntary reflex as most of the pain subsided to a low hum and Helena’s hands found their mark. “Ah,” Myka sighed. “You sure know where to put your hands,” she commented with a short laugh.

“I aim to please,” HG responded. “Wait there,” she instructed softly.

Myka waited and watched as Helena hopped over to the other side of the bed and settled against her back. She braced for the unknown until loving caresses tamed her tensions and placed her into a reaffirmed state of semi-arousal. “Helena,” she whimpered into the bunched quilt beside her. On her side, the weight of her pregnancy was easier to ignore, easier to focus on her lover’s attentions. “Oh!” Her eyelids slid shut and for several minutes her breathing deepened, her body responding to every little brush of skin on skin.

Helena’s caress rounded the curve of a knee and scraped along the back of a thigh, her breathing coming in measured shots as she listened to Myka’s gasps and groans. Fingers brushed the beginning valley between twin cheeks and disappeared into the shadows, eliciting a renewed flurry of incoherent sounds from the American’s mouth.

“Gaaawd...”

The inventor’s attentions focussed between the apex of two long legs, her caress drifting through coarse hair and back to dip into a well of desire. “Oh, Darling,” she whispered into the nape of a neck. _How could I have resisted this for so long?_ she thought as her own body throbbed in response to her lover’s arousal.

“Helena,” Myka whimpered aloud. Fingers slid through her wetness and circled an over-sensitive bundle of nerves before sinking into the well of her pleasure, filling the void she had felt the past month. “More!”

“Your wish...” Helena breathed over the shell of an ear as she pulled two fingers from her lover’s depths and stroked around the entrance before thrusting back in with a third.

“Fuc*...” Myka’s voice fell into the blankets that muffled her expletive. She pulled her right leg forward, creating room for her fiancée to push further, to drive her to loftier heights. She barely noticed as her nails sank into cotton, the pillow-muffled sound of her pleasure erupting from her throat in a long, drawn out groan of completion.

Helena felt Myka’s inner walls squeezing her fingers and slammed her eyes shut against the tremors that fluttered within her own body. Why had she been so afraid of this? How could she have forgotten how exquisite this moment was, with her lover shuddering and coming undone in her arms? So many opportunities in the last few weeks missed because of her fears. Never again.

Myka felt Helena withdraw and sighed at the sensation of her muscles melting into puddles. “Helena?” she asked, needing to make sure that her fiancée was close by.

“I’m here, love,” HG soothed as she leant up on her elbow so Myka could see her properly. She made room for her lover to turn to face her and dipped down to meet the mouth that demanded her attention.

* * * * *

Myka woke some time later to an empty bed but barely moved before the sound of footsteps on the stairs drew her attention. As the familiar gait approached, she sat up and pulled the bed covers over her chest, smiling when the door opened to reveal her fiancee holding a food-laden tray.

“There you are,” the brunette observed with relief from the bed. She tucked several mused strands of hair behind her ear and gazed up at the inventor with an expression akin to awe. “I missed you,” she repeated from their earlier exchange as Helena looked longingly back at her, placed the tray in the middle of the bed and got back in. “I’ve only been awake a minute and I missed you.”

HG covered Myka’s lips with her own, smothering the cause of her lover’s words with a kiss. “You have my heart, Myka. I am never far from you.”

Caring not whether the sheet would fall, Agent Bering threw her arms around the Brit’s shoulders and teased her way passed yielding lips with her tongue. There was nothing in the world that could replace the feel of her fiancee’s mouth on her own and it had been too long since she had fully indulged herself. Teasing fingers tripped their way over her right nipple and she moaned just as her stomach rumbled.

Helena attempted more than once to pull back but found her body caught up in her lover’s spell. Each time she retreated to suggest that they eat first, Myka pressed against her, until they lay diagonally across the bed with the tray pushed carelessly out of the way.

Myka ignored her hunger for food long enough to satisfy her hunger for Helena. Her mobility might be temporarily impaired but her desire to hear her partner calling her name overrode any awkwardness she still felt. Helena had soothed many of her concerns and frustrations until she was little more than a bundle of spent nerves, and now, she wanted her turn.

Running fingers deliberately slow around the cap of a knee; Myka savoured the moment that Helena extrapolated her destination and begged her to keep going. She felt all resistance cease and swallowed the cry that escaped from her lover’s mouth. The occasional rattle of plates on the tray was irrelevant as the occupants of the bed moved together, words and sounds of encouragement drowning out the jarring clatter.

One hand holding onto Myka’s shoulder, and the other bunching the sheets above her head, HG rocked against the delicious friction between her thighs. The shirt she wore to nip downstairs in was lying open, and the feel of Myka’s eyes sweeping her body while she was in the throes of passion, tipped her over the edge.

As she lay panting, Helena’s thoughts flashed back to the night that had triggered her insecurities to begin with, the night Myka had spent hours making love to her in London. Her young mind had taken the experience and logged it as the most profound incident she had ever, and might ever, face. In recovering that memory, she had unintentionally placed it on a pedestal. Even had Abigail not reminded her to think of other significant moments in her life, like holding her baby for the first time or asking the love of her life to marry her; right in this moment, Helena realised that each new day she spent with her love made her happier than the last. She didn’t know how it was possible, but every time they made love, her body responded to Myka’s touch with more depth and intensity. In short, every moment with Myka was profound if she took the time to consider it.

There was talk of moving to the living room to curl up in front of the fire. There was talk of running a bath to share. There was talk of desert and ‘playing’ in the kitchen, but in the end, they remained in bed, contented with their finger food and nakedness in more ways than one. Only when the phone finally rang around nine o’clock did they hastily draw robes around their bodies and make themselves decent for the goodnight chat with their daughter.

Myka flipped her tablet up onto its stand and accepted the incoming Skype-call. The image that greeted her put an instant grin on her face.

Christina’s attention was elsewhere as she shouted to someone in the background. “... not the orange one!” she paused for a second and then giggled. “No, not there... On your head!”

Helena closed her eyes in fond exasperation; the longer they lived in the twenty-first century, the less pronounced her daughter’s Victorian influence became. In many ways, this was a good thing, but her own deeply ingrained sensibilities squirmed at the blatant disregard for decorum. She could almost feel her mother’s hard stare from across the centuries. She conveniently forgot how much she had hated those expectations in early life.

Sharing a warm look with her fiancée, Helena listened to the eight-year-old and felt a sense of relief pass through her. “Seems like she’s enjoying herself,” she whispered into wild curls.

Myka turned to bring her lips back to her lover’s until an unconvincing ‘yuck!’ broke them apart again. “Hello, Sweetheart,” she said to the screen. “How’s your sleepover going?”

“It’s great! We had PJ and B sandwiches, in triangles, and made a clock with a potato!” Christina bounced on whatever surface she was lying on, making the image wobble.

Myka chuckled. “I think you mean PB and J,” she corrected with a smile.

“Yeah, with lots of jelly!” the eight-year-old enthused.

“Jelly?” Helena frowned, thinking that the concoction sounded disgusting. It was no wonder her child was as high as a kite.

“Jam,” Myka explained, taking pleasure in the expression of confusion painting the features she loved. It was so incredibly wonderful to see her partner back to herself again that she felt a jolt of delight every time she looked at the woman beside her. She slowly tuned back into the conversation and realised that Claudia had joined them.

HG cocked her head to one side, analysing the joy on her daughter’s face. “What is the significance of the triangles?” she asked, wanting to learn anything that made her little girl happy.

The red head shrugged. “Dude, they just taste better, y’know?”

The inventor’s expression became sceptical. “As opposed to oblongs? You are suggesting that the shape of the food changes its flavour?”

“Yeah,” Claudia agreed, thinking it was obvious.

“You do realise that that is scientifically impossible,” HG tried to reason.

“She’s right, Mummy! It doesn’t make sense but she’s right. Triangles taste better!” Christina insisted loudly.

Helena watched Claudia wince slightly at the volume and felt a wicked sense of satisfaction. “Do they also come with a higher concentration of sugar?” she asked the techie as her daughter became distracted by something across the room. She heard Myka chuckle beside her and ran her hand over a fabric covered knee.

“How much fun do those rules look now, Claude?” Agent Bering teased before the sound of a thump drew her attention to background. “What was that?”

“Hey, little Jedi,” the red head disappeared for a moment and mumbled something out of sight. She returned to the marginally concerned parents and winked. “Don’t get your... whatever you’re wearing... in a twist. No injuries!”

“Mama!?” Christina squealed as she came back on screen.

“Yes, Sweetheart?” Myka responded with a soft sigh.

“I miss you!” the eight-year-old said with a grin, her face moving rapidly closer to the camera before she pulled back with a giggle. “And you, Mummy! Are you still coming for brunch tomorrow?”

Helena struggled for a moment between her relief that her evening’s plans were still on track and disappointment that her daughter was still set on staying away for the night. “Yes, we will see you at half ten, tomorrow morning,” she assured the girl.

With that cleared up, Christina was off again, likely bouncing around the room, and Claudia refocused on her friends while trying not to appear too guilty. “So, we’re all good, right?” The twin stares made her twitch for a few seconds before she caved. “Ok, I know I overdid it with the sweet-treats but have you seen that pout? And I totally promise to give her back unbroken. I’ll deal with any sugar-crash fallouts and...”

Myka couldn’t hold back the snigger that broke through her serious expression and momentarily buried her face in her hand. “Claude?” she tried to stop the monologue but the red head was on a run. “Claude!?”

“I won’t do it again!” Claudia cried and then scanned the room until she spotted her charge staring at her and giggling. “Am I grounded?” she asked the senior agents.

Myka managed with few words to reassure her friend that she wasn’t in trouble and that she and Helena were still grateful for her services. They had a short, if sporadic conversation with Christina before they air-kissed her goodnight and put the tablet away.

HG breathed a long sigh as she flopped back on the bed. She shuffled over to make room and wrapped an arm around her fiancée’s shoulders as Myka joined her. “I did not anticipate this being so difficult,” she whispered into soft curls.

“I know, honey,” Myka closed her eyes and ran her own fingers around a navel as she enjoyed the sensation of Helena’s hand in her hair. “I’m sure we’ll get used to it, if it becomes a regular thing.”

“I am enjoying _this_ though,” HG confessed. “No interruptions and no clothes? Heaven,” she added in an undertone.

“Hmm,” Myka tugged at the lapel of the robe that barely covered her lover’s torso. “Almost no clothes,” she pointed out as she pushed the offending material out of the way. “But we can rectify that.”

Helena’s breath hitched, her pupils dilating at the suggestion. “You’re not tired yet?” she asked, her mouth lifting at the corner as her favourite shade of green focussed on her.

Myka’s fingers tiptoed a path from navel to collar and along the curve of a neck to tunnel into raven hair. “Not if you’re not,” she insisted as her nails scraped lightly along sensitive skin.

The growl that rose in HG’s throat was muffled by the lips she crushed against her own. Enthusiasm and love would give them energy enough for a while yet she thought while tugging Myka’s arms from the sleeve of her robe and running her hands over every inch of exposed skin.

Knowing well that life could turn on six-pence, she tried to remember to make the most of every moment. First order of business? Making her future wife blissfully replete.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading. Now that this is out of the way, The Birth will hopefully progress smoothly. I hope to have something worth reading by March. Watch this space!

**Author's Note:**

> I have much of this story already written so updates will be as fast as I can edit. Comments welcome as always!


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